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Jack and Three Jills 


A NOVEL. 


By K C. PH I LI pa 


NEW YORK: 

GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER, 

17 TO 27 Vandewater Sti^eet, 


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A. 


F. C. PHILIPS’ WORKS 

CONTAINED IN THE SEASIDE LIBRARY (POCKET EDITION): 


NO. PRICE. 

1018 As in a Looking-Glass ...... 20 

1038 The Strange Adventures of Lucy Smith . . . 20 . 

1041 Social Vicissitudes . . .... 20 

1045 A Lucky Young Woman 20 

1047 The Dean and His Daughter . ... . . 20 

1048 Jack and Three Jills 20 


486555 

JUL 1 7 1942 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


CHAPTER 1. 

My earliest recollections are of a strange little country 
house down in Essex. It was a snug house of red brick, 
tiled with blue slate, which looked as if it might have come 
out of a box of Dutch toys, or have been swept and trans- 
planted bodily by a whirlwind from some brick-field suburb 
of London — Langley, let us say — and allowed to drop itself 
into the center of fat grazing meadows and deep stagnant 
dikes and big elms, where rooks held their conclave, and 
shrieked defiance at the sparrow-hawk and owl, having 
themselves a keen eye to the adjacent domicile of the wood- 
pigeon, and the unprotected excavation oL the plover. 
Nature is still luxuriant in Essex, and the Essex mind is 
not so much intolerant of new ideas as incapable of ideas 
of any kind. No Essex laborer has ever heard of anything, 
or ever talks of anything, or, if he reads, has ever read of 
anything beyond a radius of fourteen miles — wliich makes 
twenty-eight for going and returning — from his own home. 
Suffolk is sometimes called Silly Sulfolk;^^ the agri- 
cultural population of Essex has not even the wit to be 
silly. It is the connecting link between man and the go- 
rilla, if you commence Iby denuding the gorilla of his brutal 
and aggressive attributes. For the Essex louts are peace- 
able, and in their way kindly, and even courteous. This 
is the most that Christianity has done for them, although 
Essex livings are a^s well endowed as any in England. 

My father was an Essex squire, and as like other Essex 


6 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


squires as are pease and mold-made bricks and empty oyster 
shells to one another. Study^ aided by the microscope, 
may perhaps reveal minute differences between individual 
specimens. But such differences are like Gratiano^s thi’ee 
grains of wheat hid in three bushels of chaff. You may 
look all day ere you find them, and when you find them 
they are not worth the search. 

Thus I vegetated on in Essex, thoughtless and unthought 
for, growing as any ugly duckling may grow, if chance has 
warmed its egg to maturity and hatched out hhe product. 
And a very ugly duckling indeed I must have been, and I 
know that I was dissatisfied with myself, although I had no 
standard of measurement ready by me, and consequently 
used none. Self-dissatisfaction is the beginning and essen- 
tial condition of all growth. The snail is the only living 
thrng in favor of which nature has made an unfair excep- 
tion. As the snail increases in stature, and (presumably) in 
favor with his brother snails, his tenement grows along 
him. The architect of the universe has been kinder to 
snails than to men. 

But I had some sort of education for which I still remain 
devoutly grateful. Let me describe its manner and method. 
I was turned over to the curate of the parish. He wanted 
to make me learn by heart ‘‘Propria quae maribus. I 
absolutely rebelled. Ultimately we liit on a via media. It 
was supplied by Martyn'^s “ Georgies, a copy of which I had 
routed out among his books. Then between us we got hold 
of a natural history. The curate was astonished to discover 
than its author was not a naturalist, so much as a Fellow of 
an Oxford college, and a learned classicist. Pupil and 
teacher were thus on their level, and settled down to an 
understanding. He was to teach me the dead languages-^ 
Greek and Latin —and I, on the other hand, was to teach 
him what I knew of woodcraft. Each was to be docile as 
pupil, and stern as master. We stuck to this compact, 
and as we worked it honestly it worked well. Before he 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 7 

and 1 parted company I could read Latin, if not Greek, 
and could even speak it. In fact, we adopted the rule of 
the Jesuits, and talked Latm that we might improve our- 
selves. He Wight have asked — ‘‘What^s o^clock?^^ In- 
stead, he' asked — Quota Jiora f” I might have wished to 
say — “Time for a swim. I used to say, Natandum 
est. ” Thus we got on. 

All that I knew of my father at this time was that he 
was always in money difficultiosl Nor do I say this by way 
of blame to him. Financiidly, he was neither better nor 
worse off than other Essex squires and landlords, who 
were, for the most part, alike hopelessly insolvent and ini- 
pecunioiis. You can not get out of your land more than it 
will carry. When a camel is overloaded, it remains squat- 
ting on its legs and refuses to move. Stir it will not, al- 
though you may beat it to death. The camel served under 
Abraham, the father of the elect, and is consequently the 
one animal that has taken the measure of man. 

My eldest brother was hardly even a memory in the 
household. He had done something too di’eadful to be 
even remembered. His name, so far as domestic formali- 
ties can go, had been blotted out from the family record. 
As I shall not have to deal with him again, I may as well 
say what was his ultiinate career in life. He entered the 
service of the Peruvian Government, and became their 
chief minister of marine. His juvenile indiscretion, which, 
according to my father, unfitted him for any further useful 
or honorable work on the face of this earth, was not that 
he had made love to a dahy-maid, but that a dairy-maid 
had made love to him, and had carried him off as Omphale 
did Hercules. 

• My second brother had been destined for a civil engineer, 
and with a view to that result had been, so to say, potted 
out in Victoria Street, Westminster, which, I am told, is a 
2 )lace where, in the course of the day, more guineas, or 
their equivalents, pass hands than honest words are spoken. 


8 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


He soon became tliorouglily qualified, and was then sent to 
New Zealand, where, I beheve, he is doing credit to his 
training. 

I was the third son. My youngest brother was barely 
out of the nursery, and unequal to the performance of his 
matutinal bath. 

^ My sisters in no way concerned me. There were two of 
them. They were gluttonous devourers of novels in -three 
volumes. They adopted the latest fashion in dress, what- 
ever it might be. They knew ever5dhing about everything, 
and they rested content hi that sublime omniscience. 
Being, moreover, the vicegerents of the household, they 
enjoyed authority and exercised it. 

I have not yet spoken of my mother. I shall always re- 
member her with love. She had been the daughter of an 
eminent queen ^s counsel, who had made a great deal of 
money and was expected to die rich, as indeed he did. 
When my mother married he behaved liberally. He was 
always available for a check in any emergency, and when 
he died he left her a good round sum to be Mrs for life, 
the remainder to her children, in equal proportions. 

My father did not find it an easy thing to be a landlord. 
The best of his tenants paid unpunctually, others got into 
heavy arrears, others did not pay at all. What are you 
to do?^^ my father used to say. If you can not get 

another tenant, you had better allow the present one to 
remain. He will, at all events, scratch the face of the 
ground, keep down the weeds and repair the hedges. He 
is an unsalaried bailiff, and you have your shooting over his 
farm for whatever it is worth. 

At l^mes would come a pinch more than usually severe. 
For our meat and vegetables we relied on our own re- 
sources. But coals and groceries and clothing had to be 
paid for, and as you can not pay a bill of twenty pounds 
with a five-pound note, my mother's income had to be an- 
ticipated. As her trustees never consented to tliis opera- 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


9 


tion, the process was an expensive one. Thus we rubbed 
on in a miserable kind of way^ living from hand to mouth, 
and without much hope for the future. No man is more 
wretched than a needy country squire; no man so poor as a 
I)oor gentleman with appearances to keep up. 

By the time I was twenty I had had my full share of 
such adventures as Essex can 3rield. I had attended fairs, 
ridden steeple-chases, engaged myself in personal conflict 
with poachers and gypsies, and, as a matter of course, 
fallen desperately in love with the only heiress in the neigh- 
borhood, not because she was an heiress, but because she 
happened to be good-looking — which last opinion, like the 
affection itself, was distinctly reciprocal. 

This love affair was the first turning point in my life. 
Of course we wrote letters to each other — about two a day 
■ — or, if we did not meet, four or thereabouts. In the nat- 
ure of things, these letters were intercepted They were 
very silly and very earnest. The result of their discoverj 
was that Isabella Vivian was packed off to a boarding- 
school in the Isle of Wight, and I was dispatched to Lon-- 
don to read for the Bar. ^ 

•Reading for the Bar meant this: — ^I had the run of a 
pleader ^s chambers, to which I never went; I lodged at a 
boarduig-house in Bayswater; I made my billiards furnish 
me with pocket money; I was on familiar terms with every 
omnibus driver on my route, and. I think I can honestly 
state that I never missed a suburban race meeting. In this 
way I qualified myself to -defend my fellow-creatures put 
ujion trial for their lives, and to argue appeals involving 
hereditary titles and vast estates before the House of Lords. 

Let me, on the other hand, do myself Justice. Honest- 
ly, I do not believe that I had any vices. I never drank 
more than I could carry. I never borrowed money which 
I did not promptly repay. I never made a bet on a cer- 
tainty, or insulted a man smaller than myself; and I treat- 
ed all women with reverence. With these exceptions I was 


10 


JACK AKD THKEE JILLS. 


no doubt as idle and worthless a young vagabond as any in 
town. 


CHAPTEE n. 

The boarding-house, for sharing in all the privileges of 
which, including the entree to the billiard-room and the use 
of the piano, I paid the modest sum of thirty shillings a 
week, was in the semi-aristocratic district of Bayswater, 
which looks down upon Paddington, and is itself looked 
down upon by South Kensington. It was kept by a widow, 
who must once have been good-looking, but who now was 
worried and overworked, and never weary of discoursing 
about her troubles, past and present. 

The company was distinctly mixed. There were two 
gentlemen, who were each something in the city — what it 
might be I never inquired. There was another whom I 
knew to be a book-maker, but not a member of TattersalPs. 
There was a half -pay officer, a brevet-lieutenant-colonel, a 
clerk from Somerset House, and a gentleman of the press. 
As for the ladies, they too were a little mixed. There was 
a generaPs widow, who spoke with a rich Irish accent, and 
always referred to her .husband on every possibly oppor- 
tunity as The Djineral. There were two grass widows, 
whose husbands were said to be serving in India; but there 
was some sort of difficulty in ascertaining the regiments to 
which these gallant officers belonged, a fact of which Mrs. 
General very spitefully made the most. There was a Miss 
M '’Lachlan, who boasted much of her nephew “ The 
M^Lachlan. She dressed severely, had an obtrusive nose, 
and was an extreme Calvinist, regarding all forms of epis- 
copacy as being little better than the Scarlet Woman her- 
self. Lastly, there was a Mrs. Brabazon, who might have 
been any age between twenty-five and thirty-five, and whom 
all the other women hated, partly because she dressed bet- 
ter than they did. haying all her frocks from Paris, partly 


JACK AKD MEKE JILLS. 


11 


because slie was very good-looking, and all the men were 
in love with her, and partly because she allowed herself 
luxuries, such as a pint of champagne with her dinner, and 
occasionally hot-house fruit, while in the matter of flowers 
she was positively reckless, managing to procure them from 
Nice when they were not to be 'had in London at any price. 

At the end of a week Mrs. Brabazon and I were very 
good friends. At the end of a fortnight I was allowed to 
escort her in her morning walk. After a dozen or so of 
these expeditions, which were usually in Kensington Gar- 
dens, I told her more or less loutishly, being in earnest, 
that I loved her, and she replied that I was a very naughty 
and impudent boy to tell her so to her face. 

“ But I do love you,^^ I said. “ On my soul I do.^^ 

You silly little cock-sparrow. I am old enough to be 
your mother. And she rubbed her cheek vigorously with 
her pocket-handkerchief ict show, I suppose, that its roses 
were genuine. If you dare to talk any more such non- 
sense to me I shall order you away and go home alone. 
You ought to be whipped for your impertinence.'’^ 

I looked rapidly round and could see no one watching us, 
so I boldly thi’ew my arm round her waist and kissed her. 
Til return, of course, I got a box on the ears, but I do not 
believe it could possibly liave been intended to hurt me. 
If it was, it certainly failed. 

‘‘You are very rude. You ought to be ashamed of your- 
self. You are hardly out of jackets, and you smell of 
bread and butter. I hate you overgrown boys; dont on 
coupe le pain en tartines/^ 

“If you are not civil to me,^^I rephed somewhat col- 
loquially, “ I shall do it again. 

“ No, pray 'don\ said the lady. “ At least not here. 
For Heaven’s sake respect the proprieties. We shall have 
all the nurse-maids laughmg at us, and the park-keeper 
ordering us out. 


12 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


“ I shall only kiss you all the more when I get you 
back/^ 

That^s your business, my young man. But perhaps if 
you are good you may. 

So we walked home the best of friends, and I may men- 
tion, as a mere matter of detail, that as soon as we were in 
the passage and the street door was ^hut, I kissed her then 
and there on the door-mat a dozen of times at least. Such 
were my playful ways. 

A month passed rapidly, uneventfully and pleasantly. 
My remittances from home were extremely irregular, but I 
kept straight with that poor hard-worked Martha, Mrs. 
Jessett, and paid her as regularly as I could. Sometimes 
if I had had a good run at billiards I would even pay her 
a little in advance, telling her that otherwise I should be 
losing it again, and that she had better make sure of it 
while she had the opportunity. She used to shake her head 
a little over my billiards, but evidently considered me, 
upon the whole, a respectable young man, well behaved, 
and a credit, if not an ornament, to what she called her 

select circle. 

I was in vigorous health, and used to take enormous 
walks. There were a certain number of dinners to be eaten 
at the Temple, and these formed the staple of my legal 
education. I rather liked them. The wine was far from 
bad, and the little messes of four were most friendly pm'ties 
carrees. I only remember one disagreeable incident oc- 
curring at any of them. A prig of a cousin of mine, being 
afraid lest I should recognize him and probably corrupt his 
precious morals, folded down the paper on which you write 
your name to prove your attendance, and then handed it 
on to the next man. He being a good-natured fellow and 
a sturdy, deliberately unfolded it, flattened it out, wrote 
his name upon it in the largest possible fist, and handed it 
on to me; after which silence fell on the mess until we or- 


Jack akd theee jills, 13 

dered a bottle of port, at which my worthy cousin precipi- 
tately left. 

I occasionally come across tliis young gentleman, and 
were it not that I am certain he has never yet read Tom 
Jones, I should slap him on the back and address him as 
Blifil. But the shot would fall dead. What was it that the 
late Lord Westbury said of a corporation? It had neither 
a soul to be saved nor a body to be kicked. My cousin ^s 
carcass was too worthless for kicking. His soul is his oto 
affair. Of all hateful products of the present day, your 
sucking young Pharisee is about the worst. 

Thus my life — except, of course, for my love affair — ran 
in an even and monotonous path. I could easily make 
enough money for all my simple amusements. Now and 
again I would .indulge myself in the luxury of a good long 
ride with a quiet dinner at some old-fashioned hotel. Then 
I am afraid my tastes, or at all events some of them, must 
have been barbaric, for I discovered an old-fashioned 
river-side house at Chelsea where the bargemen used to 
play quoits and skittles for pots of beer. I am particularly 
fond of skittles. It is a vulgar game, no doubt, but it is 
admirable exercise on a wet day, and I remember reading 
somewhere that when Peter the Great worked as a ship- 
wright at Deptford, he could not only fight any man iu tlie 
whole place, but was also much addicted to skittles, the 
simplicity of the game and its roughness pleasing his bar- 
baric fancy. As a matter of fact, I know a learned judge 
now on the bench who is very partial to skittles, and makes 
no secret of the fact, and a little skittle alley is one of the 
many resources of Marlborough House. 

To conclude, I found that the bulk of my fellow-students 
of the junior Bar were most excellent and estimable 
fellows, and I made a number of friendships, which aided 
materially to make my life pleasant. Need any man have 
been happier? 

Nor must I forget Mrs. Brabazon. Sometimes I would 


14 


Jack AKt) thkee jillS. 


catch a favorable tide and row her up to Richmond, when 
we would dine at the dear old Castle, and return by train. 
"VVe made all kinds of happy little excursions together — to 
Ham House, to Hampton Court, with its galleries and gar- 
dens, to the Lion at Rarningham, where we would probably 
fish all day with indifferent luck or none, “and dine pleas- 
antly by an open window, richly festooned with roses and 
honeysuckle. Nothing pleased her so much as to go to a 
new place; and nothing pleased me so much as discovering 
a new place to which to take her. We were as happy as 
children and — so far as I can see — about as innocent. It 
pleased us to lead our own fives in our own way, and if 
that is sin, as Miss Lachlan expressed her strong convic- 
tion it was thoroughly carnal is what she called it), I 
can only say that it is extremely pleasant, and that I am 
very sorry for those who have never tried it. There are 
some people who, I really believe, would, if they could, 
stop the birds from singing on Sunday, and confine the 
bright-eyed rabbits strictly to their burrows during the 
hours of Divine worship; and Miss M^LachlanVas of this 
type, taking things austerely, and paying strict tithe of her 
mint and anise and cummin, while serenely indifferent to 
the weightier matters of the law. 

There were occasional skirmishes at the dinner-table be- 
tween the Scotch spinster and Mrs. Brabazon, iji which the 
latter had so much the best of it that, on one occasion. Miss 
M^Lachlan^ to the relief of everybody, and the unconcealed 
merriment of Mr. Brattle, the jolly old book-maker, burst 
into tears and left the room. Mr. Brattle summed up the 
merits of the dispute judicially, tersely and vigorously, and 
confirmed his opinion by offering to lay ten to one against 
the old cat with maiden allowance and weight for age. 
He found no takers; but he was sufficiently tickled witn his 
own joke to console him for the loss of what he called giv- 
ing a little lively interest to the thing. 

Book-makers, like Jews, are of many types, but, a good- 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


15 


hearted book-maker, like a good-hearted. Jew, is one of the 
very best of fellows. 


CHAPTER III. 

Fortune was not always favorable to me. Billiards has 
less chance in it than any game in the world; but even at 
billiards there is such a thing as a persistent run of luck 
agamst you, and I remember one day reaching what Mr. 
Micawber would have called a climax in my misfort- 
unes.^^ I had no money. My father was in arrears with 
my allowance, and I knew literally no one to whom to ap- 
ply, so I dressed myself with more than usual care, paying 
particular attention to my boots, and marched round to the 
establishment of Mr. Raphael in Half-Moon Street, Picca- 
dilly. 

FTow, Mr. Raphael was a money-lender, and made no 
secret of the fact. There was a neat brass plate on the 
front door, and aii office bell with a small plate under- 
neath it. I was shown into a waiting-room, magnificently 
furnished with exquisite paintings and statuettes and 
valuable china. Mr. RaphaeFs taste was apparently as 
sound as his judgment. Admitted to his sanctum, I was 
not long in coming to business. I wanted a hundred 
pounds, and I told Mr. Raphael so. He scrutinized me 
very carefully, and I returned the compliment. He was 
most immistakably a Hebrew,^ but one of a high type. He 
was plainly dressed, and had not even a diamond ring, and 
his hands, physically, at any rate, were small, white, and 
clean. 

He soon ascertained that I had a small reversion on the 
death of my mother. 

Very well, Mr. Severn,"" he said, 3^011 must give me 
a charge on that, which my solicitor, Mr. Jacobs, will pre- 
pare, I suppose it"s not charged already?"" 


1(3 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


Certainly not^/^ I answered. I have never thought 
of it. How soon can I have the money?^'’ 

Well, Mr. Jacobs must make inquiries. I suppose you 
are in a hurry. 

I replied most emphatically that I was. 

Well, if things turn out right, as I dare say they will, 
you can have it at one o^clock the day after to-morrow. 

‘‘And meantime you can let me have a ten-pound 
note?^^ 

“ I think you^re honest, Mr. Severn. Yes, I think you 
may be trusted with a ten-pound note. 

So he produced two five-pound notes, for which I gave 
him an I 0 IT, and he also produced a pint of very excel- 
lent dry champagne and a box of cigars. 

“ You have never asked me, by the way,^^ he observed, 
“ what I am going to charge you for this hundred, nor 
told me how long you want it. 

I blushed scarlet. He was taking my measure so pro- 
vokingly. 

“ Beggars mustn^t be choosers, I said. “You will 
make your own terms, I suppose. 

“ Well, I shall charge you twenty pounds, and take your 
bill at three months. At the end of that time I shall 
probably renew it if you are going on steadily, which I 
shall make it my business to' find out. By the way, are 
you in any profession?^^ 

“lam about to be called to the Bar,^^ I replied. 

“Ah, well! I wish you luck. But it^s horribly over- 
stocked, and the barristers, as far as I can see, are all cut- 
ting one another's throats. IM sooner, for your own sake, 
you were anything else. If, at the end of your first five 
years you have paid your expenses, you will be doing un- 
commonly well. And, let me tell you that, as a rule, I 
don^’t touch a barrister with a pair of tongs. You must 
marry a solicitor's daughter. Jacobs has one who would 
just do for you. She^s not exactly a beauty, and she^s got 


JACK AND THKEE JILLS. 


17 


a devil of a temper. But there '’s plenty of her for the 
money, for she can^t ride an ounce under sixteen stone. 
You might do worse; you might indeed. Think it over.^^ 
. I laughed, and told him I would, and the next moment 
his clerk entered. 

“ Well, Mason, what is it?^^ 

‘‘ Colonel Pierce, sir.'^^ 

‘‘ Very well, then. I sha^nT see him. Tell him so. 

‘‘ He says he has two other names, sir, and he^s brought 
the paper with him. TheyTe good names, sir. 

‘‘ Thak's another matter. Let him wait half an hour 
and then show him in. Good-morning, Mr. Severn. 
Mason, show Mr. Severn out. ” 

So I shook hands with Mr. Raphael, and departed not 
altogether -unfavorably impressed by him. 

Get out of your head the idea that a money-lender is of 
necessity an unclean beast, and if he is a Jew you will 
probably find him a decent fellow, with a far higher sense 
of honor than the great bulk of his customers. I prefer 
him to a solicitor, any day; and I believe in the long rmi 
he is cheaper. Solicitors have swallowed up more estates 
and ruined more families than have any number of money- 
lenders. 


“ Here the attorney dwells in county state, 

With his twelve acres and his park-like gate; 

But wait awhile, if times become more dark, 

His neighbor’s woes will buy his gate a park.” 

It is very seldom that a money-lender makes a large fort- 
une. It is very Seldom, overstocked as the trade is, that a 
solicitor dies poor. 

Armed with my ten pounds I hurried home, and as some 
instinct had forewarned me would be the case, found Mrs. 
Brabazon in. 

“ What is the matter with you, Jack You seem fiushed 
with delight. DonT tell me of any lonnes fortunes, for I 


18 


JACK AKT) THREE JILLS. 


won^t listen to them. You\e been winning again at bill- 
iards, I^m sure. 

‘‘ No, I haven ^t; hut I have had a stroke of luck all the 
same. Let us dine and go to the theater. 

“ Yes, I will, if you will dine reasonably, like a good 
boy, and sit quietly in the stalls afterward. I must have 
no wasting of money. 

The bargain was struck and ratified. We dined — ^never 
mind where, I will name no particular place — ^for the usual 
half guinea, with a bottle of well-iced champagne between 
us. Then we sat most decorously in the stalls, taking, I 
suppose, about as much interest in the performance as did 
any one else. We left before the farce, and I purchased a 
veil in Coventry Street, under cover of which Mrs. Bra- 
bazon came with me to the Cafe de TEurope, where we 
took a modest supper. 

There was really, as I almost believe I have remarked be- 
fore, something child-like, and to that extent innocent, in 
our simple methods of making ourselves happy. And then 
we drove back to the boarding-house, my companion in- 
sisting that I should get out at the corner of the street and 
allow the cab to deposit her at the door alone. It would 
not have done to have followed too soon, so I adjourned to 
a neighboring hostel, where I sat for awhile with the land- 
lord in his own bar parlor, ultimately obtaining my admis- 
sion to the select boarding-house with my own latch-key. 

I am not going to multiply details of these folles jour- 
nees. It i^ certain that I was madly in love. It is equally 
certain that my devotion pleased Mrs. Brabazon. I often 
wonder how it was I did not marry her, but I think I see 
an answer to the question in her own sound commoft sense, 
and better even than that, in her honesty and loyalty. 
Her common sense told her that she was older than myself, 
and that our relations had better remain such as they were 
for so long as they might; that we might thus, if the sum- 
mer blossom of^ love fell oif the tree, at all events securt) 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


19 


the autumn fruit of friendship. And;, honestly,, I think 
that Susan Brabazon valued my friendship more than my 
love, and that when she first commenced to encourage me 
it was rather 'pour se desennu'yer than for any other reason. 
And also, without -being a puppy or vain, I think I may 
say that she was proud of me, and wanted to -see me do 
something in life, and then turn round upon those who had 
ill-treated me and cDld-shouldered me. 

We men are never astonished because a man of fifty-five 
falls in love with a big school-girl of seventeen. We do 
not think of the life to which the poor child is to be con- 
demned for what ought to be the best and brightest years 
of her own. No! the old gray-beards solemnly wag their 
heads, and say that it has been a very suitable and fortun- 
ate match. Why should it not be an equally suitable and 
fortunate combination of circumstances for a woman of 
middle age to take under her wing a stripling young enough 
by all laws of nature to be her son? You will answer, Oh, 
yes, we have heard all this before. You are making out 
your own case.'’^ Well! and is it not the duty of every 
man to make out his own case? And is there anything new 
under the sun? 

Looking back at all these things now, I marvel at my 
own luck in a very different spirit from that in which Olive, 
after looting lac upon lac of rupees, marveled at his 
own moderation, and drew comparisons between himself on 
tlie one hand, and Cortes and PiSftrro on the other, not at 
all favorable to those two eminent buccaneer adventurers. 

In her infinite moderation and genuine tenderness of 
womanly sympathy, Mrs. Brabazon watched over me, but 
would do nothing more. I fii’mly believe that, at any mo- 
ment of our friendship, or more than friendship, she would 
liave been better pleased than any one else to have seen me 
marry happily and well, and Avould have done everything 
in her power to- bring about such a match if she had espied 
time, place and opportunity. 


20 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


Prudes, and moralists, v/ho are often worse than prudes, 
may think what tliey please of her conduct. To me it 
seems “ pure womanly.'’^ 


CHAPTER IV. 

At the appointed date I made my second visit to Mr. 
Raphael, who received me in a manner at once friend- 
ly and benignant. He was satisfied, h^ said, with the 
secmity, and would let me have the money I required. 
Mr. Jacobs had prepared the necessary documents, and they 
were waiting for me, but perhaps I would like to read, them 
through before I signed them. 

I had a very fair general ignorance of law, and of con- 
veyancing law the most profound ignorance in the world. 
Besides, I wanted to have my money and to get away with 
it. So I signed a promissory note for one hundred and 
twenty pounds, receiving back my I 0 U for ten pounds 
and a check for ninety. 

‘‘ I have not deducted the professional charges of Mr. 
Jacobs, observed my guide, philosopher, and friend. 

I wiU satisfy those myself. You will perhaps he coming 
to me again. I should he glad to see you at any time 
within reasonable limits — both as to • time, that is to say, 
and as to amounts. 

Why ! Here seemed^i indefinite vista of golden caverns * 
open before me. I felt myself as by some touching of the 
lamp a second Aladdin, and the blood rushed to my face. 

“You will come and lunch with me, I hope,^^ I asked 
my new Macaenas. 

“You are very kind. I dare not lunch. My digestion 
is entirely ruined. I live by doctors^ rule, and principally 
on rice puddings and Steinwein. Good-bye. Let me give 
you a word of advice before you go. If you want any more 
ready come back to me. DonT go to anybody else. I 
should hear of it if you did. I should then have to secure 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


n 


myself by telling your trustees all about our relations, 
which would not, I should imagine, be at all pleasant for 
you. Besides, I could put a distringas on you. You know 
what that means 

I blushed, and replied that I did not. 

“Go back to your Inn of Court and ask some of . your 
friends. But there, you’re a gentleman, Mr. Severn, and 
will do nothing underhand with me, I am sure. I am 
busy now. Go to the mint. ” 

I went away to ‘ the mint,’ or, in other words, to the 
West End branch of the Bank of England, and there con- 
verted my check into solid cash. The West End branch 
being at a corner of Burlington Gardens, I made my way 
to the arcade of the same name, where I plunged a bit in 
trifles for Mrs. Brabazon, making also a few additions to 
my own toilet. I was “ combed and curled ” until I looked, 
as Tennyson has it, like any 

“ Oiled and curled Assyrian bull.” 

There is, a little below the Burlington (which I did not 
leave without a fan, and gloves, and a sunshade), a famous 
fruiterer’s shop lookmg so^th. Here I procured nectarines. 
The nectarine is the very finest fruit in the world, but it 
comes late in the season. 

Then my driver carted me back to Bayswater, taking 
Tattersall’s as he went, that, under the pretense of water- 
ing his horse, he might glean, or attempt to glean, the 
latest odds. The good nature of youth is always exuber- 
ant. When I got out I gave him a shilling cigar and two 
shillings more than his fare. I believe he fancied that I was 
under misapprehension as to the exact sum chargeable, and 
wanted to escape dispute by the offer of the regalia, for he 
received both the gratuity in kind without the least attempt 
to wear out the brim of his hat, and whipped away his 
horse as if he were glad to be rid of me. 

Dinner was in full preparation when I entered the pas- 


jack: akd theee jills. 


sage, and Mrs. Brabazon was in wbat we called, the recep- 
tion-room up to five and tbe dining-room after that hour. 
It was just five, and a dirty and tousled maid-servant was 
beginning to spread upon the table a dinner cloth three 
days old. 

You^re incorrigible. You Ye going into training for 
running a race and carrying weight. You are loaded up 
like an argosy. Are your father and brothers dead, and 
have you come into the family estates.^^"’ 

“ Not a bit of it. I had just the tail end of my patri- 
mony, and I have sold it all for a mess of pottage. Not a 
bad mess, either, as things go. 

You have been doing something foolish?^^ 

“ And what if I have?^^ 

Why, that you had better not stop in this inner circle of 
sweltering mud and pitch, and drink bad beer, and worse 
Marsala, and begin to talk about it. You must take me 
out to-night. Come along with me. I order you. You 
do not want any brandy and soda, nor even sal volatile, 
although I have some.’’^ 

I followed her some way up the stairs, and then, like a 
great school-boy, as I still wjs, hesitated again. She 
stamped her little foot on the floor. 

‘‘ Come up!^^ she said. So I went up with her to her 
own room. 

I followed her in submissively. The room was a small 
sitting-room, and my first proceeding was to deposit all my 
packages and parcels on the table. Then, without mvita- 
tion, I sat down in a large wicker-work chair. She, with- 
out a word, drew another chair out at a right angle, so that 
she could catch, as I know now, the exact profile of my 
features and detect their expression. Then she began. 

“ I repeat what I told you down-stairs. I told you there 
that you were a silly boy. Now, I tell you, having got 
you all alone to myself, that you’re much worse. You’re 
as bad as a fourth-form boy at a public school. You are 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


23 


perfectly incapable of taking care of yourself. What on 
earth have you been doing?^’ 

‘‘ I want a brandy and soda/^ I pleaded, “ and then I 
can tell you. 

You want nothing of the sort, any more than I want 
rubies in this ham and beef shop, where, if 1 wore them, 
the other women would congratulate me on the magnifi- 
cent size of my garnets. Now, be a good boy; pour your- 
self out a glass of water, and light yourself a cigarette. I 
know you have got cigarettes about you, as certain as if 1 
had been with you when you were buying them. I am 
ashamed of myself for taking you out the other night, and 
getting you into mischief. When you have lit your 
cigarette you may tell me everything. 

Then she left her chair and drew a hassock up close by 
me. Then she held my hand in hers, turned her face full 
toward mine, and waited for me to begin. 

“ Well,^^ I said with considerable disquietude, I have 
been out getting money. That is all. And I have only 
spent a little of it; and I have all the rest with me. 

“ Good boy, so far. I know what getting money means. 

I know you have had to pay for it. It is the dearest thing 
in this world. Well, I will forgive you that. What else 
have you been doing?'’ ^ 

“ Shopping. I have been to the Burlington, and one or 
two other places, and have come straight back. 

There was a silence for a moment, during which we 
looked steadily at each other. 

“ You have only been shopping?^^ she asked. 

I assure you, Susan, only shopping. I have some debts 
still left to pay. And besides, I wanted some more to go 
on with. Why! I know I play billiards, but I have not a 
bet standing over in the world, although I have not paid a 
single one to-day. You doiiT understand my billiards, 
Siisau. It^s as harmless witli me as lawn-tennis, I caiiT 


24 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


help winning at it;, although I go out of my way to handi- 
cap myself. 

She sprung to her feet, and began to pace up and down 
the room. I was astonished for the first time to see her 
excited. I, for my own part, conscious of no more wrong 
than is a school-boy who has plucked an overhanging apple, 
and jerked out a trout with a foul cast of his minnow, was 
l^erfectly unabashed. It seemed to me that she was mak- 
ing an unnecessary fuss about matters, which, after all, 
were entirely my own, so I waited with such philosophy as 
belongs to a man of my age. , 

“ Wee’ll talk no more business at present, she suddenly 
said. You shall take me out again to-night to some nice 
quiet place, somewhere where there will be nothing to jar 
upon us or annoy us, or make us feel at all hke our real 
selves. You stop here. Ifil just run upstairs and put on 
my things. Never mind the people. Wefil go out to- 
gether. What need we care, after all, for such canaille, 
either you or I? Poor creatures! They have nothing to 
do but to talk scandal. The cackling idiots! Now wait. 
I will take the greatest care to look a credit to you. 

She ran upstairs, and in a very short time came down 
again, looking certainly marvelous. I do not think that it 
was in the least my own intemperate tone that fanned my 
admiration. I firmly believe that nine men out of ten 
would have agreed with me. She had put on a little walk- 
ing-dress of dark-gray silk, cut in the plainest possible 
fashion. Her cuffs and collar were plain white linen; her 
gloves dark lavender. Her bonnet was small, close fitting, 
and fastened without strings. Its only ornament ’was a 
Marechal Niel rosebud. She had a dark jacket of fieecy 
wool, evidently made by a good tailor, and a little sun- 
shade too large for a parasol and too small for a genuine 
umbrella. 

It^s too early for some tilings, Jack, at present, and 
it^s too late for others — too late in the day, and too late in 


JACK AND THREK JILLS. 


25 


tlie year. Let us go and dine somewhere quietly first — at 
some decent place, and yet not too dull. 

To suggest a place that was decent and respectable, and 
yet not too dull, was beyond the range of my,.experience, 
and I frankly told her as much. 

‘‘ Then leave it to me. 

She took me to a hotel which is in the district of St. 
James’s. It is a hotel which has an open coffee-room, 
with dinner set and a la carte. It was a handsome room, 
with nothing about it of the restaurant, or in any way gar- 
ish. On the contrary, it was painted in sober colors, and 
lighted for the most part by wax-candles. It was distinctly 
English. 

I shall order the dinner and the wine and ever 3 dhing,” 
she said. You shall see what infinite capabilities there 
are in me of great tilings as soon as the wind begins to 
blow from the gates of the West. ” 

I am not writing the me7iu of that little dinner from 
memory. It was written on a liainty card, which I carried 
away, and which I still treasure. If my reader tliinks me 
a Brillat Savarin, he is mistaken; but I recall this dinner 
because it was the occasion, or rather the pretense, of its 
surroundings, circumstances, and conditions. We had oys- 
ters, spring soup, sole au vin Uanc, cutlets a la Soubise, a 
partridge, salad, an omelet, rice pudding, grapes, and 
Parmesan biscuits. The only wine was still hock, which 
made its appearance with the oysters, and after it thor- 
oughly iced champagne of ’68 Perrier Jouet. I am con- 
tent to leave this menu to the judgment of those who 
understand those things better than myself. 

It is but a short drive from where we dined to that Lon- 
don attempt at a Trocadero, the Alhambra. There we 
went and took a small private box, where I could smoke 
and Susan could enjoy a cup of black coffee and a glass of 
chartreuse. 

The Alhambra that night gave us its usual choice, or, to 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


be more exact, variety. There were star singers — not per- 
haps with all that talent which is only to be found in Paris, 
but certainly better than an3rthing of their kind to be met 
with in London. The irrepressible Jones may not be the 
equal of Paulus or Libert, but he is very good in his way 
when he does his best. Then there were the acrobats, and 
English acrobats are admittedly the best in the world, as 
ai’e English boxers, having more muscle and more stolid 
indifference to danger than have their continental con- 
frh'es. Then, too, there was the ballet. The Alhambra 
ballet fall short of the Parisian in gorgeousness, costume 
and scenery, and although we impoj-t of our premiere 
danseusesj our corps de ballet is never so well trained as it 
would be in France or Italy. It is the great fault of Eng- 
land to recklessly waste good raw material instead of 
training it to the utmost. But then no one in England — 
not even the Bishop of London — se:fiously regards the ballet 
as a profession. 

When we emerged I caUed a cab, giving the man in- 
structions, as before, to put me down in advance, and then 
to deposit Mrs. Brabazon at the door. As it was probably 
his last chance of another fare that night, he drove slowly, 
economizing his horse for the morrow. 

“ You have been to the Jews, you bad boy,^^ Susan said, 
as soon as the horse had settled down to his steady jolt, 
and we were clear of the noisiest of the traffic. 

“ Well, and what if I have? It’s my own business.” 

‘‘ [N’ot entirely your own business, for I, at any rate, care 
for you sufficiently to tell you that anything that stood in 
the way of the future before you would make the re- 
mainder of my own life dark with its shadow. Come! 
There is nothing incurable except dishonor, of which you 
are incapable. Tell me all about it. ” 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


27 


CHAPTEE V. 

I OBEYED her commands, and told her all about it 
as well as I could. The narrative was imperfect, with the 
exception of the figures, which, of course, I remembered 
accurately. When I had finished she took my right hand 
into her left and patted it gently with her other hand. 

‘‘ Have you really told me the whole truth? Have you 
kept back nothing whatever? Please donT mislead me or 
I will never ask you to trust me again. 

On my honor, Susan, I have told you everything, down 
to the last farthing. 

“ Very well then. Ho not take a single other step in 
this wretched matter without asking me first. Of course 
you are tied up for awhile and, so, safe. I fancy you will 
find it easier to get into the net than to cut your way out, 
but we will see what we can do. And now let us talk of 
something else. 

So we talked of something else, until it became time, as 
before, to arrange with the cabman and to maneuver our 
separate entry. When I returned, after some fifteen min- 
utes of solitude and refiection, I found the house in dark- 
ness. That I slept soundly goes without saying. 

Mrs. Brabazon did not appear at breakfast next morn- 
ing, and so, when the meal was concluded, I took niy way 
toward the river, which I managed to strike, and availed 
myself of the steamboat for the best approach to a blow of 
air which London can give you, unless you resort to such 
out-of-the-way places as Primrose Hill. 

The boat landed me at Temple Pier. My pleader was 
apparently indifferent to my absence. At all events he 
made no comment upon it, but after remarking that it was 
a fine day for the time of year, handed me a set of inter- 
rogatories to draw and to leave for his approval, on the 


28 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


back of which he had penciled certain weird and illegible 
references to Adolphus and Ellis/^ Petheram on In- 
terrogatories/^ and* Meeson and Welhy/^ Into these I 
plunged, if not quite C 07 i amore, at any rate with the dis- 
tinct feeling that they were a change. When I had finished 
them, and had been graciously assured that they were ex- 
tremely creditable, I sallied out into the garden. 

The day was still young, and it was my first impuli^e to 
go back, on the strength of having done a virtuous day^s 
work, and to try and tempt Mrs. Brabazon out again; but 
she had managed to make me, in a certain sense, afraid of 
her, and my love for her was not altogether of the kiud 
that casteth out fear, however perfect it may otherwise 
have been. So I found my way to some billiard-rooms in 
Holborn, where I set to work at pool, backing myself 
wherever I could get the chance. The stakes were not 
high; but if you win, or even take stroke and divide a pool 
of twenty-four, now and then judiciously betting upon your 
stroke, it is not difficult to •collect a couple of sovereigns. 
And with about this sum I left the rooms at an early hour 
and walked home, feeling myself a pattern of all the virt- 
ues, and fuU of the most vague and tempestuous hopes. 

I would get called to the Bar, and would burst upon it 
like a meteor. I would keep a yacht and cruise in it dur- 
ing the long vacation with Mrs. Brabazon. I would go 
mto Parliament (actually at this moment I did not know 
whether I was a Tory, Whig, Liberal, Kadical, or Home 
Killer) ; and then came hazy ideas, as if through some dim 
arch, of the woolsack and of a peerage. JSi la jetmesse 
savait I Si la veillesse pouvait . 

Next day I was in no humor for work in any form, and 
least of all for work at my pleader’s chambers. I had 
passed through a cyclone, and was in what sailors call “ the 
doldrums. ” In a cyclone the wind catches you from every 
quarter at once. In the doldrums there is no wind to catch 


JACK AlTD THREE JILLS. 


29 


you from any quarter at all, and you consequently lie “as 
idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean. I was, I say, 
at this momeiit in the doldrums. 

In this frame of mind I wrote a little note, asking Susan 
to come for a walk, -sent it up and received a verbal reply 
that she would be ready immediately. We strolled to- 
gether into the Grove, and so made our way into Kensing- 
ton Gardens, full, as usual, of soldiers, nm’se-maids, chil- 
dren, babies, and loafers. 

We sat down close by the water under an immense elm. 
The leaves were falling already, and the trees were turning 
russet. Kensington Gardens are still a paradise of birds. 
Swallows were even yet flitting overhead. One could hear 
the plaintive note of the wood-pigeon, and now and again a 
shy little nut- hatch would dart about over the bark, hang- 
ing, in its parrot-fashion, head downward, darting its neck 
to this side and that and peering with its tiny inquisitive 
eyes for vagrant insects. In Kensington Gardens nobody 
is suspicious or captious. Kobody cares who is walking 
with whom. We are as entirely alone as if we had been in 
the very heart of a tropical forest. 

I began to talk with but indifferent success, and had an 
uneasy suspicion that she was enjoying my perplexity. 
This made me more or less desperate, and at last I came to 
the conclusion that I was driven into a corner and had bet- 
ter at once open fire. There is a grimly humorous proverb 
which recommends you, as “ the eleventh commandment 
with promise,"’^ to tell a lie and stick to it. It seemed to 
me that telling the truth was not only the right thing for 
me to do, but, under all the circumstances, the best. I do 
not of course mean the best from any low or unworthy 
point of view — my past history will, I hope, acquit me of 
any such suggestion. I merely mean that I wanted to 
bring matters to a head, and consequently set to work in 
my own blundering fashion to do so. 

Look here, Siisaii/^ I suddenly broke out. 


30 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


Look at wliaL my dear boy?^’ 

“ Oh, don^t tarn all my earnest into fmi. Take me 
seriously. 

‘‘ I always do take you seriously. I have never deceived 
or even misled you for a moment. 

‘‘ Well, then, I want you to marry me. I want you to 
do so out of kindness to me and pity for me. I will get 
called, and we will go away somewhere to the Colonies, and 
I will practice at the colonial Bar, wh^re they like young 
men, and where I really think I shall be sure to get on. 
We shall meet nobody whom we know — nobody to worry 
us or give us any trouble or make things in any way un- 
pleasant. It is difficult to imagine a simpler and a more 
complete change of hfe. It will be a transformation 
effected in about six weeks with no more trouble than that 
involved in a very pleasant run in a magnificent steamer; 
and we will be married before we start. 

‘VThe world moves. Jack. I remember, when young, 
men used to build castles in the air. You are not content 
unless you map out empires and dynasties in it. 

De Vaudace I De Vaudace ! Toujours de Vaudace !” 
I answered. 

Everything, she answered, even a correct French 
. accent, will come to a young man in time, if he will only 
have sufficient self-control to wait. 

“Wait!^^ I echoed, angrily. ‘‘Wait! It is always the 
same answer. Wait! Wait till the spring; wait till the 
full summer; wait till the autumn. I am tired of waiting, 
and I will wait no longer. One may wait till one^s hair is 
gray, and at the waiting game death, who waits the longest 
and is its croupier, sweeps the board. I, for my part, shall 
wait no longer. I have, so far perhaps, made a mistake of 
life; but the mistake is not at all irretrievable. Anything 
but it; and it is just my quiet but fixed determination to 
comn^ence life over again. I have opened out badly, made 
the wrong gamhit ; but I have still som.e confidence in my- 


JACK AKB THEEE JILLS. SI 

self, and 1 mean to begin all over again. My. old age, if 1 
ever reach it, shall not be a regret. 

“lam not talking of myself, Jack. On the contrary, I 
am talking in earnest. It is idle for you to think of 
maiTying me, and it would be worse than idle in me to en- 
courage you m any such notion. You do not know all 
about me. 

“Ido.^^ 

“ Oh, dear me; no, you do not — not in the very least. 
I have a very bad record; and, apart altogether from that, 
I am idle, selfish, and hicurably extravagant. I should 
hold you in a fooFs par^ise for a month or two, and then 
some morjiijig you woidd find yourself left alone, with the 
Jidditional mortification of knowhig upon the very best 
authority that I had gone away with some one else. I am 
far too fond of you to see you subjected to this kind of 
thing, and I will be no paidy to anythmg whatever that 
leads up to it, however remotely or indirectly — of that you 
may rest most absolutely assured. You are a most dear, 
good, lovable boy. I will say, if you wish it, deai*, good, 
lovable man. And it is for that very reason that I mean 
to protect you against yourself. And now. Jack, I am 
thoroughly tired. I always did hate arguments. Take me 
back to the Grove, and give me some ices. And for 
another week, at all events, during which time you will 
perhaps come to your senses, there .must not be another 
word of all this nonsense. 

Of course I could only obey, although I felt quite aware 
that I did so with a very sulky grace; and in this frame of 
mind I escorted Mrs. Brabazon to Westbourne Grove. 
There we had our ices and a little fruit, and a harmless 
pint of claret with a siphon of soda-water. The enter- 
tainment was given in its simplicity, and at its conclusion 
she insisted on walking home alone. 

“ You may go and play billiards, she said; “that is a 
game at wliich you will not singe youi’ poor little wings. 


S 2 


.tack akd three .tills. 


I do not know whether this was meant as a sneer oi‘ not; 
but it was too dangerously like one to at all improve my 
temper. 

" Souvent femme varie 
Bien folle qui s’y fie.” 

So I muttered to myself as I strode away in quest of Cal- 
verley^s virides sed non e gmmin&\nensa 8 . 


CHAPTER VI. 

I DID not have my usual fortune, thereby directly con- 
tradicting the old saying Unlucky in love, lucky at 
play. I missed easy strokes, which for me ought to have 
been a certainty. I left myself perversely in the very cen- 
ter of the table. Ultimately I got disgusted, and walked 
away the winner by only some two or three shillings. The 
marker added fuel to the fire by suggesting, in a friendly 
under-tone, that my nerves were a little shaky, and advis- 
ing what he called a peg of brown brandy and green cura- 
90a. I was then, and always have been, a temperate man; 
but I am assured by veterans in 'the other camp, that 
brown brandy and cura9oa in even moderate doses would 
kill a rhinoceros in a week. 

The next morning I rose early, wrote a note to Mrs. 
Brabazon, telling her I should return at twelve, and, with- 
out waiting for breakfast, walked into the park. I struck 
due south until I reached the river. There were some 
barges lying on the shore, with the bargemen round about 
them. In an indolent mood I invited these worthies to 
partake of beer at my expense. Between them they con- 
sumed about a gallon, and I remember jilaying one aged 
mariner a rubber of skittles, in which he came ofi decidedly 
the conqueror. The stakes were unimportant, and at the 
conclusion of the game I took my departure. 

“ If you want a run, sir, at ally time,"'’ said one Poly- 
phemus in a catskin cap, a blue guenisey, corduroys, and 


JACK A.KD THRKK JILLS. ' 33 

iiiikle jacks, ‘‘ come to this house and ask for the ‘ Matilda 
and Clara. ^ I^m always to be heard of here, and there ^s 
always a bunk in my cabin. The accommodation's limit- 
ed, but it^s clean, and 1^11 put you ashore wherever you 
like.^^ 

I thanked my new friend , entered his name in my 
pocket-book, and so departed. From Battersea to Hyde 
Park and across the park to Bayswater is an easy walk. I 
marched along at a good swinging pace, and reached home 
half an hour after my appointed time. The servant must 
have been looking out for me; for, as I turned my latch- 
key in the door, she quickly opened it and handed me a 
letter, retreating at once herself to the lower regions. 

The envelope itself was formidable, being of the largest 
size known in attorneys^ offices, but my name upon it was 
in Susan^s handwriting, and the seal was also her own. 

I hurried up to my own room and tore the packet open. 
First of all fell out the charge, on my reversion, that I had 
given to Mr. Raphael. I looked at it in blank bewilder- 
ment, mtensffied when I noticed that it bore engrossed 
upon its back a full and absolute discharge and release. 
Pinned to it was my promissory note, vigorously canceled 
and with the stamp cut out. So far I saw daylight. ' But 
there was a third inclosure — a letter from Susan herself. I 
locked the door, and then tore the letter open. I had to 
read it two or three times before I could believe it. 

It ran upon this wise: 

September 18 — . 

My own DEAR Boy, — I send you the papers which 
you were foolish enough to give Raphael, that you might 
waste the money upon myself. Does not one silly turn de- 
serve another? By the time you have got this letter I 
shall be many miles away — in fact, altogether out of your 
reach, although I hope and trust we shall meet again and 
be as good friends as ever. You have been something very 


34 


JACK AND THRKK ^TILLS. 

much more than a mere glimpse of sunshine in my. check- 
ered and tempestuous life. 

Whatever you do, mind and get called to the Bar as 
soon as possible. You will, I feel certain, find >yourself 
thrust into an appointment almost at once, without know- 
ing how, or why, or by whom, and you will then have the 
world before you, with a fair chance of enjoying it. 

Do not go falling in love with anybody — not even with 
Miss M^Lachlan. You may continue to love me if you 
like. I shall be in Paris to-morrow, and will send you 
thence my photograph. 

“ I shall not answer any of your letters, but you may 
write to me if you care to do so. My solicitor, Mr, Amos 
Clarke, of the Old Jewry, will forward your letters; but he 
will not give you my address, and his clerks do not know 
it. Be good, and take care of yourself, and some day you 
shall hear from me again. 

Ever yours, 

‘‘Susan Brabazon.^^ 

I thrust the letter into my pocket, and hurried rapidly 
into the streets. Striking to the northward across the 
park, I reached the canal, the towing path of which in the 
day-time is practically deserted. Here I paced up and doTO 
to consider this letter. 

Evidently Susan was determined, for the present at any 
rate, to hide herself from me, and it would be idle, unless 
I had. large funds at my disposal, to attempt to track her 
out. A mere journey to Paris, for instance, on the chance 
of finding her there, would have been worse than useless. 
She might be at Vienna, Venice, Biarritz, Rome, anywhere. 
And even if she were in Paris, how was I to find her out? 
Advertising in the papers was useless. I would annoy her, 
and besides, her solicitor had her address. There was noth- 
ing to be done, except to bow to fate with a bad grace. 
This I did, cursing my luck, and then, more anglico, pro- 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


35 


ceeded to stupefy myself at a hostel, known as the York 
and Albany, with London stout and a clay pipe. 

In the tavern in question is, or was at that time, a tap- 
room, frequented by cabmen and the drivers and conduct- 
ors of omnibuses. Here I sought a refuge, and before 
long found myself with no underhand intention listening to 
the general conversation. 

Well,^^ continued the omnibus driver, dividing his at- 
tention impartially between his bread and cheese, his beer 
and certain complicated structural alterations in the lash of 
his whip, “ what does Bill do? Did "e drown hisself? Not 
likely. thought better of it. ‘ She never told lies be- 
fore,^ says Bill to himself. ‘ As likely as not she^s telling 
the truth this ^ere show. So I shall ^old on,^ he says, ‘ I 
shall •’old on. ^ And so he did •’old on for two mortal 
years. 

And here the narrator buried his features in his pewter 
pot. 

‘‘ And I suppose the yoimg woman married some other 
bloke inquired the young conductor of dandified dress, 
with a white hat and a penny flower in his button-hole. 

“ You Ye always sharp, you are, Joe, and I dessay you Ye 
sharp enough, if youh’e up to only half yer OAvn estimate o^ 
yourself. But for oust you Yppen to be wrong. Three 
months after that very identical young man was riding 
home beside me on my near side when a young woman on 
the roof leans over and touches Ym on the shoulder. 

gives a sort o'’ yell, and scrambles on to the roof. It 
was more flyin^ than scramblinY And then Y were by her 
in broad daylight, with Ys arm round her waist a-huggin^ 
Yr like mad, till I ^ad to ask Ym to stow it, as it was be- 
coming just a trifle too Yt and public hke.^^ 

‘‘ And what then?^^ inquired the skeptic. 

‘‘What thenP^Mvas the contemptuous reply. “What 
tlien? Why, what on earth do you think? Why, they was 
married that day week I '’E’d ^ad the bans out all the time. 


36 JACK AND THIIEE JILLS. 

only she never knew it, through not goin^ to church o^ Sun- 
days, whereby she lost the information. And I don^t be- 
lieve ^e^d ever hs eye off of ^er. But look ^ere; timers 
up. 

And he finished his beer and hurried out. 

I strolled out again over the bridge into the Kegent’s 
Park, and sauntered down to Portland Road Station. Hard 
by the station the road strikes due south for Oxford Street. 

I followed it and then made my way through Soho Square 
and Soho to Piccadilly Circus. I could not bear the idea 
of dining at Bayswater, so I contented myself with a steak 
and a pint of stout at Stoners, after which I went to the 
pit of the Adelphi, where was being enacted a melodrama 
of the genuine old Adelphi type, followed, of course, by a 
screaming farce. Then, the performance concluded, I 
sallied out and loitered home. 

The next morning I called on Mr. Raphael, who this 
time received me with promptitude, but with some signs of 
astonishment. When I told him that I had not come, this 
time to borrow money, he was more astonished still, and 
asked me, not rudely but still brusquely, what I had come 
for. 

This I explained to him as well as I could. I told him 
that I wished to know under what circumstances his claim 
upon me had been settled. 

“ Easily enough,"^ he said. A lady came here; I dare 
say you know who she is. She said she was a member of 
your family, and I only hope, for your sake, you\e more 
of them. She paid me up, took the bit of stiff and the 
parchment skins, and then gave me a regular good jacket- 
ing — let me have it hot, I can tell you; called me all the 
names she could lay her tongue to. When I suggested a 
biscuit and a pint of dry, I really believe I was as near hav- 
ing my eyes clawed out as I ever wish to be again. How- 
ever, the notes were all right, and I did the proper thing 
and handed her back the papers. But . I tell you one thing. 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


37 


Mr. Severn, I mean to keep my word to her. There’s no 
more truck between you and me. That’s straight. ” 

‘‘ I’m sorry the lady was so hard on you, Mr. Raphael,” 
I replied, hardly able to control my amusement. ‘ ^ I my- 
self shall always consider that you have behaved most fairly 
and kindly to me. ” 

“ Well, Mr. Severn, business is business. People chuck 
stones at my line of business, but they can’t chuck stones 
at the way in which I carry it on. I’m not afraid of any 
Equity Judge on the bench, though they’ve all got their 
knives into me. Lots of my transactions have been ripped 
up, but they’ve always stood the light,- and Jacobs has 
pocketed his little bill of costs every time. It isn’t every 
banker in the city of London who can say as much as that. 
Will you have a pint of champagne? No? Well, if you 
won’t, have a cigar at all events. Good-morning, and good 
luck to you, Mr. Severn. Mason, show Mr. Severn out. ” 

So I made my way down to Piccadilly, and walked back 
to Bayswater more at sea than ever. But on two things I 
had made up my mind. Nothing should induce me to get 
'into debt again. And, in the second place, I would get 
“ called ” as soon as possible. That would be the best re- 
turn for her kindness that I could make at present. She 
would almost certainly write to congratulate me on my 
call, and I could then go to her at once, or at all events set 
to work with a light heart to find her out. 

These good resolutions did not go the way of most of 
their kind, and find their way into a pavement which only 
Dante could describe. I did not content myself with mak- 
ing them, but I also stuck to them. My course of life 
now became tedious and uneventful. I eat my dinners 
and attended my pleader’s chambers with commendable 
regularity. I passed my examinations, and was duly 
called. And thereat my father so far departed from his 
usual rule of strict economy as to send me a check for a 
hundred pounds, and to niform me that my allowance 


38 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


would now be raised to a hundred and fifty n year, which 
would be paid me as before, quarterly. He also suggested 
that I should come doTO for Christmas. There were still 
some pheasants left, and there would probably be good 
skating on the lake, which had already caught over once or 
twice. 

I replied to this epistle in a proper spirit of filial grati- 
tude; settled my account at the boarding-house; took lea^e 
of Mrs. Jessett, of Miss M ^Lachlan, and of the other 
boarders; and then, before going home, ran down to Brigh- 
ton, that I might divide a week between the harriers and 
the racket court. 

The air of Brighton seems to act upon Londoners in a 
really marvelous fashion, and before a couple of days were 
over, I felt myself once again a boy of eighteen. 


CHAPTER VII. 

In this frame of mind I made my way home. A comi- 
try has delights and pleasures of its own, even if you -do* 
not, as I did in this case, know every inch of its grounds. 
Three years^ absence may alter yourself, but they do not 
alter the face of nature. There were the same trees in the 
long avenue. The very hole from which I had taken the 
nest of the great red woodpecker had not been covered 
over with sheet lead, and, as my fly drove past, an old 
woodpecker darted out with a noisy shriek and chuckle, 
and scudded away across the park. The lake was un- 
altered, except by its margin one or two immemorial wil- 
lows must either have tumbled down from extreme old age 
or else have been mercifully relieved the trouble of further 
existence. In the immense elms by its side the herons were 
still clustered, and I could recognize some of ihe old nests, 
which I have often attemjjted to reach at imminent risk of 
my neck. The rabbits were darting about in and under 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


30 


the bracken, and as we neared the house I heard again the 
solemn chatter of the rooks uj)on the terrace elms. 

My arrival had been expected, and I found the family 
drawn up to receive me. My father, en grand seign- 
eur, shook hands, complimented me on my growth, and 
expressed his satisfaction that I had at last embarked upon 
a career which could, of course, only end in the wool- 
sack. 

My mother kissed me, and told me that I was growing, 
and that I reminded her very much of her own eldest 
brother Horace, especially about the hair and the bridge of 
the nose, with regard to which last feature she could have 
taken me for Horace himself. Then my sisters in succes- 
sion, by seniority, administered flabby, pecky kisses, pop- 
ping their great red lips down on to my cheek, and snap- 
ping them away again as suddenly as if I were a dish of 
snap-dragon, or were sulfering from some unpleasant con- 
tagious malady. My youngest brother, who had by this 
time attained the dignity of jackets, sidled up and took my 
hand, rubbed it all over his face and head, and then con- 
tinued to hold it firmly. 

I was asked, of course, if I would not like some refresh- 
ment. We had a room, presided over by the cook, and 
called in solemn make-believe the butler^^s pantry. I re- 
plied that I would make my way thither, and that then I 
should like to take a turn round the grounds, if Hick, my 
yomigest brother, could accompany me. To this sugges- 
tion no op230sition whatever was offered. In fact, my pro- 
posal to take myself off at once and to give no further 
trouble, seemed to be hailed as' a symptom that I had at 
last learned how to behave myself, and was r duced to a 
proper state of humility and Christian discipline. 

The butler, as it pleased us to call him, was delighted. 
He first, without comment, drew me an immense glass of 
old ale. When I had finished it, he favored me with a 


40 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


solemn wink while cutting a bountiful sandwich from a 
cold haunch of venison. 

“ Eare goings on you^ve had. Master Jack. Eare capers, 
1^11 be boimd. Well, well, let a boy begin to be a man 
early. That^s what I say. And don^t let a man begin to 
get an old man too soon. You^re coming on. Master Jack. 
I^m getting old myself. I^m bigger round the stomach 
than I care to be, and smaller round the thigh. ^Tisn^t 
much 1 could do now, over a hurdle or across a ditch, and 
I ain^t up to following the -hounds afoot, as I did twenty 
years ago, when I could tire out the best horse in the field. 
Never mind. It does an old man good to see the young 
folk coming on. You won^t find much change in the 
place. There^s William down at the stables, still, and Mat 
too. Mat’s married add got a family, and his wife, she 
combs his hair a bit. But she’s a managing woman, and 
she looks after his clothes. He was a bit untidy when he 
was single, so it’s as broad as it’s long. Too much beer 
ain’t good for a young gentleman. Try this. ” And he 
produced a quaint Dutch f agon of blue glass, with a neck 
like that of a stork. It was a genuine Amsterdam cm’a 9 oa, 
and I freely confess that it warmed my blood. 

Next I hunted up Dick, whom I found in all the dignity 
of a pea-jacket, and who at once took me under his charge. 
His ambition seemed to be to take me to every place at 
once; but I cooled down liis youthful impetuosity, and told 
liim that I wanted to go for just a stroll. 

So we roamed through the grounds, which seemed to me 
much dilapidated, and sadly in need of replanting. And 
-then from the stables to the kitchen garden, and from the 
kitchen garden to the home farm, where we kept our one 
cow; Dick and I wended our way to what was called the 
hanger — a piece of hill-side thickly wooded, and noted for 
its badgers, squirrels and jays. I had more than won 
Dick’s heart by the present of a big, three-bladed knife 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


41 


with a swivel and chain, by which it might be Conveniently 
attached to his belt or braces. 

I say. Jack/" he said, they"ve all been talking about 
you."" 

“ Have they, indeed? And pray, what did they say?"" 

“ Oh, pa said that you were exactly like himself; that 
you were dreadfully lazy, but very clever; and that, if you 
chose to try, you could’ do whatever you pleased. Georgie 
took your part, and said you weren"t lazy at all, and 
Bachel didn"t say anything. She never does say anything, 
but she always manages to have her own way. She"s very 
clever, Rachel is. "" 

Now this intelhgence, satisfactory in so far as it went, 
was yet not exactly reassuring. Evidently I had returned 
as a suspect and upon my good behavior. No man likes to 
play the part of the prodigal son; but to enact this role 
when there is no fatted calf killed for you, none of the old 
wine brought forth, and no lifting up of the sackbut, harp, 
psaltery, dulcimer, and all manner of music, is but poor 
work indeed. So I continued my way moodily, while Dick, 
picking up a huge fallen fir cone, made satisfactory trial of 
his new knife. 

We arrived at the lake to find it was caught over 
scantily, but with promise of skating to come. Dick 
rushed from place to place on the bank, to take up and 
reset his night lines, on which, in spite of the weather, 
were two or three big eels. These he strung in solemn 
triumph on a long withe, and so we turned back to the 
house. In the house I found them all reassembled. It 
still wanted a couple of hours till dinner-time, so I invited 
Dick up to my bedroom. Fresh country air invariably 
makes you sleepy, and I felt coming upon me what Shake- 
speare terms an “Exposition of Sleep."" I took off my 
boots, threw myself down on my bed, and giving Dick 
strict orders to wake me in time for the hot water before 
dinner, was soon fast asleep. Dreamless sleep is of all 


42 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


blessings in this worlds and of all anodynes, incomparably 
the first and greatest. 

:ic » ♦ * 4s V 

Two or three days afterward the ice on the lake was pro- 
nounced to be competent, and the surface was swept with 
due and proper care, imtil it glistened like a great sheet of 
looking-glass. The intelligence spread through the' village 
and its outlying parts, and by noon the frozen surface was 
fairly well covered, and the clear shrill ring of steel echoed 
through the surrounding shrubberies, and died away in the 
palm branches overhead. Although Essex is a great skat- 
ing country, we yet had no scientific skaters among us to 
make an exclusive circle to themselves, and so spoil the 
harmony of the meeting. Very few of us were masters of 
the outside edge. None could venture beyond a figure of 
eight. All that we attempted to do was to enjoy ourselves 
in our own wayj and tliis we achieved very satisfactorily. 

I was roaming about alone, rolling in that delightfully 
easy method, the perfection of laziness, when you never lift 
either foot from the ice for a stroke, but fling your body 
from side to side, swinging along by dead weight in a per- 
petual zigzag. I had lighted a wooden pipe, buttoned up the 
collar of my pea-jacket, and looked in all respects as much 
like all other young men as any modest young man need 
desire to look. Suddenly I became aware that there was 
some one on the ice whom I knew, and ought to remember 
only too well. It was my old sweetheart, Izzie Vivian, 
in the company of my sisters. I at once struck out my most 
superb outside edge, and joined them with a flourish as 
complicated, if not perhaps as expressive, as the dernier 
firouette of a premiere danseuse. 

I bowed and shook hands, and I can solemnly declare 
that there was not even a twinkle, or the suspicion of it, in 
the eye of either of us. 

‘‘ Has he not grown, my dear?^^ remarked my sister 
Georgie. 


JACK AND TTTREE JILLS. 


43 


“ Immensely/^ was Miss Vivian's somewhat prosaic an- 
swer. 

This nonchalant acquiescence a little irritated m.e. As, a 
matter of fact, I was neither taller nor shorter by the six- 
teenth of an inch than when I left Essex more than three 
years ago. 

Then came the usual feeble gossip, for which my sisters 
were entirely responsible. Yesterday^s mail had brought 
down the last number of the “ Queen and a batch of new 
novels from the London librarian. I was asked what the 
park looked like, and who were playing at the different 
theaters, and we got mto a general atmosphere of thetOourt 
and Shakespeare and musical glasses. It was easy talking 
enough for one, but it was none the less terribly dull. I 
could not help noticing, however, that my old flame had, 
in the language of novelists of the Richardson epoch, vastly 
improved. She had grown; she was more self-conscious; 
even her hair was more deftly and coquettishly arranged 
than of yore, while her feet no longer seemed too large for 
her body or troubled her as to their disposition. She was 
in every way more filled out and rounded off, if, in my 
capacity as son of an Essex squire, I may borrow a phrase 
from the vocabulary of the racing stable. We know how 
immense is the difference between the _ very youngest 

man and the biggest and burliest of all possible school- 
boys, even if the latter rejoice in the bushiest of whiskers 
and be captain of the eleven or the football team. There 
is the same difference between your young lady who has 
been to her first four or five balls, and her younger sisters 
wlio are still redolent of bread and butter and the nursery. 

Pondering on these things in a listless manner, and think- 
ing of nothing else in particular, I became suddenly aware 
that my sisters had veered off, and had left myself and 
Miss Vivian alone. 

I see you are back from the Isle of Wight, I 

said. 


44 


JACK AND THRICE JILLS. 


It was awKward and fooHsli of me, but I really could 
think of nothing else whatever to say. 

“ Oh, yes,^^ she laughed. “ You know I had done noth- 
ing so very desperately wicked after all. Perhaps, too, the 
good old ladies at the school did not find me particularly 
tractable. At all events, they reported that, hi their 
opinion, my education might *be considered as ‘ finished ^ 
down to the very last extra, and on the strength of that 
certificate l am now at home again, and am told that I am 
to consider myself, in the accepted phraseology, as out; 
which means that I have been presented, that I dine in the 
evening when we give a dinner-party, and am allowed to 
wear a necklace and a couple of bangles, and to indulge in 
a dress of something a little less simple than muslin.^* 

In default of anything else, I asked her how she liked the 
change. 

“ I can hardly teU you,^^ she replied. Sometimes the 
new life pleases me well enough. At others I wish the old 
days were back again. There was certainly more freedom 
in them. But the change must come, of course, sooner or 
later. It is a great trouble. ” 

Then we began to talk of other things, until it neared 
half past three, and the day began to close. It was time’ 
to leave the ice, and we soon found ourselves at the sum- 
mer-house, where in summer we kept our bait and fishing- 
tackle, and where now there was a general clatter as of the 
removal of many skates. 

Of course I managed, under cover of my sisters, to escort 
Izzie to our lodge gates. 

‘‘ You will come to-morrow?^^ cried the girls in chorus. 
“ William says the thermometer is falling, and that the ice 
to-morrow will be splendid if it is well swept in the even- 
ing. 

Oh, of course I shall come. I love skating, of all 
things. And so our little company broke up. 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS, 


45 


As wo roturnod to the house, my sisters wanted to know 
if I thought Izzie had improved. I replied evasively that I 
supposed all girls improved about her age. I was told in 
return that I had come back with no more manners than a 
bear, to which I retorted that I had been diligently prac- 
ticing the art of cross-examination, and had not returned 
with any intention of being vivisected. Besides,^ ^ I re- 

marked, mockingly, I have passed through an entire sea- 
son at a select Bayswater boarding-house, and my heart is 
now as tough as the leg of a five-year-old rooster, or, for 
the matter of that, its gizzard. ” 

“What a wonderful man of the world you Jbave be- 
come cried my sisters in chorus, “and how immensely 
London has improved your manners. Pray, when are you 
going to be presented at Court 

“ When I take silk,^^ I retorted, “ I shall have to sub- 
mit to that troublesome ceremony. It is one of the 
nuisances involved in taking silk. 

“ And, pray, what may taking silk mean?^^ 

“ It means, my dear sisters, ‘ coming out ^ and learning 
to mind your own business and not to talk about the busi- 
ness of other people, unless you are well paid for doing so, 
and do it in your professional capacity. In which case 
loquacity assumes the rank of a virtue.-’^ 

“ Dear me,^^ remarked Georgie, addressing her younger 
sister, with a httle sigh. “ Quite a philospher for his age> 
my dear. 

To this sneer I did not condescend to reply, and the girls 
feeling, I suppose, that they had the best of the skirmish, 
assumed a corresponding air of aggressive importance. I 
did not long for Susan to bring them to their senses. Miss 
M^Lachlan would have been quite enough. But the pres- 
ence of that most worthy spinster I should have hailed with 
clean delight. Her antipathy to young men was as noth- 
ing compared to her aversion to “ minxes. 


40 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


CHAPTER .VIIL 

I WENT to bed early that night. Skating makes one 
very indolent. I know of no exercise, except swimming, 
and perhaps tennis, out of which you can get a larger 
amount of fatigue in a given amount of time. I carefully 
opened my window, made up the fire so as to have a good 
draught up the chimney, and got into bed. Then, with 
my pipe alight, I began to turn matters over. 

Susan Brabazon was out of my reach. With money and 
time I could no doubt have traced her. I had written to 
her through her solicitor, thanking her for what she had 
done in extricating me from the clutches of Mr. Raphael, 
and begging her to give me her address; but I had received 
no answer whatever, and was not likely to receive one now 
after the lapse of so many weeks, especially as Mr. Amos 
Clarke’s managing clerk assured me, with every appear- 
ance of truth, thq;t my letter had reached her, and that she 
had acknowledged its receipt in a business communication 
addressed to his master. 

Clearly, then, I could only wait until it might please her 
to write to me herself. Meantime what could I do better 
than stay where I was? It was to this conclusion several 
considerations combined. I was unquestionably comfort- 
able. It would have been idle to pretend I was not. I 
was hving economically, and indeed savmg money, which I 
should otherwise have wasted in London. And then, too, 
there was my rencontre with Izzie Vivian, for whom I felt 
all my old attachment reviving. I think it is as well to be 
thus entirely frank. I had been, no doubt, madly in love 
with Susan. But it had been the wild, stormy love of pas- 
sion. It might of course leap up at any moment if I saw 
her again; of this the chances seemed at present altogether 
hopeless. 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


47 


Izzie Vivian, on the other hand, had been my first love. 

“ On revient toujours a ses premiers amours.” 

Besides, she had developed more in proportion to the few 
years that had gone over our heads than had I myself. I, 
although nominally a man, was still in reality only a 
youth. She had become a grown woman, tall, comely and 
winning. The odds in every way were against me — that 
is, if I was to attempt to resist the situation. 

It was what book-makers call a moral, that I should fall 
in love with her again, and, of course, I at once proceeded 
to do so in the most orthodox and approved fashion. 

There are, as I had by this time discovered, and as 
probably very few of my readers will need to be told, more 
ways than one of making love, according to the age, dis- 
position, and rank of life of the lady. 'Among the list of 
books studied by the great Pantagruel, Master Francois 
Rabelais enumerates De Oalcaribus retinendis decades un- 
decim. Decades centum might certainly be written on the 
various methods of making love, a matter on which, it may 
be remembered, even Mr. Pickwick himself did not scorn 
to take the friendly advice of Mr. Peter Magnus. 

Izzie had grown into a woman, and must be made love to 
accordingly; and in this scientific frame of mind it was that 
I resolved to set to work. The resolution taken, I lighted 
a final pipe, and mixed myself some more whisky and 
water. Then I considered detaOs, and having disposed of 
them to my complete satisfaction, I knocked the ashes out 
of my pipe, blew out my candle, and almost immediately 
was fast asleep. 

The gift of instantaneous sleep is one of the happy privi- 
leges of those who, like young men and condemned crim- 
inals on the eve of execution, have the worst of their 
trouble yet before them. 

^ ^ ^ H5 

The Vivians were one of the oldest families in the 


48 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


county. There are other Vivians in England who can not 
prove common ancestry, although they are presumably 
connected, as they all have the same coat of arms and the 
same motto. 

Izzie^s father was an Essex Vivian, and chief of that ilk, 
hut there were also the Northumberland Vivians and the 
Cornish Vivians — all with pedigrees going back to William 
the Conqueror, at least, and sufficient to mystify even a 
Garter king-at-arms. Somehow or other, too, money went 
with the name. Either there were coal mines or slate 
quarries, or else there would be broad acres and large rent- 
rolls, with perhaps salmon fishing rights. The Vivians, in 
a word, ranked among those old county families whicli, as 
an acute French critic of our social life has observed, are 
prouder -of their descent, and have better reason to be 
proud of it than have the bulk of our nobility. 

Izzie was an only child, and, as the estates were unen- 
tailed, would ultimately enjoy in her own absolute right 
some twelve thousand a year. Thirty-five pounds a day or 
thereabout in round figures is a very comfortable income, 
on which life can be most pleasantly spent. No wonder 
that when, three years ago, our youthful attachment was 
discovered she should haye been hurried out of my way. 
And yet here we were together again; and she now her own 
mistress, and very possibly as ready to renew our old at- 
tachment as ever. 

What chances some men have! And yet I can honestly 
declare that I did not then, nor have ever cared for money. 
It seems to me that if a man can hunt four days a week in 
the season, keep a sailing yacht of about eighty tons in the 
summer, and never know what it is to be troubled for a five- 
pound note, he ought to be not only happy, but extremely 
grateful. Beyond some such limits as these wealth be- 
comes like that of the Vanderbilts, the Astors, the Stew- 
arts, and the Mackays — a burden. 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


49 


Next day we were all on the ice again. I am free to 
confess that I had dressed myself with more than my usual 
care, and had critically superintended the grinding of my 
skates, without which precaution the outside edge is apt to 
prove a snare and a delusion even to the most experienced. 

It was a glorious day. The sun shone in a cloudless sky. 
The snow hung crisply on the fir-trees, and in the frosty 
air every sound rang clearly and distinctly. All this I 
noticed as I left the house. As I was finally adjusting the 
screws of my skates, my sister Georgie touched me on the 
shoulder, and I looked sharply up. 

Jack,^^ she whispered, ‘‘it^s a lovely day. For once 
in your life make good use of your time, and donT be a 
fool. It^s a beautiful day,^^ she added, in a lighter tone, 
for the .benefit of all whom it might concern. 

‘‘Never knew a jolUer day in my life, I replied, at 
once proceeding to convert my legs into compasses, and to 
describe with them geometrical diagrams — ^things in spirals, 
catenaries, and other transcendental curves, only to be ap- 
proached by the aid of the differential calculus, and 
even then to be treated with respect as liable to involve you 
at any moment in a. multiple point or a* cusp, or, in the 
homely language of the ice, a “ purl.^^ 

Very soon I found the bbject of my quest. Miss Vivian 
was on the ice bestowing her smiles impartially between the 
curate of the parish — not my dear old friend and tutor, but 
a raw-boned successor from St. John^s, Cambridge — and a 
lad of about sixteen or seventeen, the son of a neighboring 
gentleman not among the county families, fresh from Har- 
row, and far more conversant with bat fives and tuck shops 
than with anything at all approaching to a flirtation. 

From our companions when I joined the group we soon 
managed to disengage ourselves. Both the curate and the 
school-boy made some welcome excuse, and started off in 
different directions, so that Izzie and I found ourselves 
cii’cling round the lake, she making the best of her pace. 


50 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


and I easily holding at her side with little more than the 
sway of my body to propel me. 

And, pray, what have you been doing in town?^^ she 
asked, after we had exchanged a few stray shots. Fhrt- 
ing, I suppose? In fact, I have heard as much from my 
cousin Walter, who has several friends in the Temple. 

This was a bold stroke for chase number one;^^ but I 
answered it by a cut for the grille. ” 

‘‘ Then your cousin Walter troubles himself more about 
my affairs than I do about his, and apparently kno^s 
rather less of them. Shall I tell you a little story about 
your deal cousin Walter? We had all been dining the 
other night at a place called the Blue Posts, in Burlington 
Street, you know where, at the top ot the Burlington 
Arcade; and after dinner we had a crown bowl of rack 
punch, which, I am afraid, made some of us a little valiant; 
and your worthy cousin told the waiter he was no gentle- 
man, and wanted to fight him, and the waiter, being, as 
he volubly assured us, ‘ the son of a jintleman as well 
known in County Corrck as any other, ^ declared his per- 
fect readiness to make the matter ^ an affair of honor. ^ 
So we interfered, and vowed that enough had been said on 
each side, and insisted that the two should express their 
mutual regret and shake hands; and your cousin had swal- 
lowed so much punch and the waiter was so carried away 
by his vanity, that they actually did shake hands most sol- 
emnly. If you doubt me ask your cousin himself. He 
maynT like it, but heTl tell you, no doubt. 

‘‘ It^s too bad of you,^^ she replied, bursting into a fit of 
laughter; and as for the poor waiter, I think he came 
more creditably out of th6 matter than any of you. 

DonT you know what the Marquis of Waterford did 
after he had thrown the waiter out of the window? Sent 
for the landlord, and told liim to stick down the broken 
(^^aiter in the bill, and to send up another at once.'’^ 


JACK AKD THKEE JILLS. 


51 


“ Young gentlemen who talk like you were hung at the 
lamp-posts in the French Revolution. 

‘‘Yes; and their descendants have ruled with a rod of 
iron, and have tamed with a hand of steel the descendants 
of the very men who hung them. It^s all ‘ the whirligig 
of time."" I don^t believe you care a bit for me now,^^ I 
continued, boldly changing the subject to the one which I 
was determined to approach. 

“ If you don^t know,'’^ she answered, maliciously, “ I 
am sure I don^t see how I can. You are tremendously 
clever, and ought to know everything, even if you do not. 

This was altogether too exasperating, and I began to feel 
myself almost losing my temper. 

“You know what I mean, I said, “perfectly well. 
You know, at any rate, that I care for you, or ought to 
know it. 

“ Oh, indeed. You have not done much to remind me 
of the fact during the last three years. I felt quite proud 
yesterday to find that you still remembered me. I had 
heard that you had condescended to transfer your affections 
to a lady named Brabazon, whom you were going to lead 
to the altar after first, of course, shooting her husband, or 
in some other way distinguishing yourself. 

Now this was distinctly awkward, so I fenced with the 
thrust — 

“ People seem to have been very busy with myseK and 
my name and my affairs. I had no idea whatever that I 
was of so much importance. 

She was roused now. 

“You may possibly have been of more importance than 
your own modesty allowed you to imagine, but that was 
some time ago.^^ 

“ Then I am in disgrace. It seems very hard, when 
even my father has taken the prodigal son to his bosom, 
and — veal not being in season at this time of year — has 
killed the fattest and most well-beloved of all liis turkeys/^ 


52 


JACK AND THREl^ JI I.LP. 


“ If you are profane I shall refuse to forgive you at all, 
and shall at once whistle for my little curate. 

Then I will be as pious as you please. 

No, nor pious either. Do, pray, let us enjoy our skat- 
ing. Your examination and cross-examination, which, I 
suppose, you have been practicing up in town with a view 
to the confusion of thieves, quite worries me. 

“ I can take a hint,^^ I replied, gallantly. 

You can certainly take liberties. You are, for your 
age, a most impertinent young man. Now, how is it you 
do the ‘ Dutch Eoll?^ I have quite forgotten. 

And we went on circling about the ice, talking of every 
subject under heaven but the one upon which I had wished 
to force her attention. 

I could see as I passed my sisters that they were fairly 
delighted, and for myself I felt flushed and insolent with vic- 
tory; for I knew enough of Izzie Vivian, down even to the 
very tones of her voice, to be perfectly satisfled that she 
was in reality as fond of me as ever, and perhaps even 
more so. Some flres burn all the better if they have been 
for awliile judiciously banked. 


, CHAPTER IX. 

Next day the ice was in better condition than ever. An 
enthusiast from Scotland, a Mr. Campbell, had telegraphed 
up to Perthshire for curling stones, and there was great ex- 
citement over the curling, which seemed to me to be a 
somewhat stupid imitation of bowls, inferior upon the 
whole to croquet, and intensely monotonous to lookers-on. 
As, however, the thing was a novelty, it, of course, as they 
say in the theater, drew. 

I joined the select company on the ice, the villagers 
being permitted to gape in bewildered astonishment from 
the banks, and to wonder at a sport rather less intelligible 
to them than a spot-barred match would have been. But 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


53 


as we were all clustered together, and as almost everybody 
Avas pretending to know all about the game, and explaining 
it to everybody else, I found my opportunity to get near 
Izzie, and under cover of pointing out to her, and empha- 
sizing with my stick the merits and beauties of the game, 
of which I was in reality profoundly ignorant, commenced 
a brief and earnest conversation. 

You can not possibly have meant what you said yester- 
day?^' I observed, tentatively. 

‘‘ But indeed I did mean it and I mean it now. I do not 
want you, out of your great goodness, to throAv your glove 
to me, Mr. Severn. The world is large enough for you 
and for me; and it is not at all for a mere country girl such 
as I am to presume to match myself against Mrs. Brabazon, 
of whose beauty and accomplishments I have heard so 
much. " 

I do not see what Mrs. Brabazon has to do with the 
matter," I replied with considerable warmth. ‘‘I love 
you very dearly, and I want you to marry me. It seems to 
me that the matter is one in which Mrs. Brabazon 's name 
need not be in any way involved. I do not know what you 
may have been told about that lady, but if you have been 
told the truth, you must know as well as I do that the facts 
are almost childishly simple. " 

You think so," said Izzie. 

“ Yes, I do. Mrs. Brabazon and I boarded in the same 
house, and met every day. She is -considerably older than 
I am — " 

“ So I have been informed," Izzie interrupted. 

She is considerably older than I am," i repeated, with 
angry emphasis. We were surrounded by a set of vul- 
gar, stupid people, and she kindly took an interest in me, 
and on one occasion rendered me a very great service. 
That is the whole of the story without the least reservation. 

I did, no doubt, tell her that I admired her, and she in 
almost so many words, told me in return that I was a silly 


54 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


school-boy, and, metaphorically speaking, boxed my ears. 
If you have ever read the ‘ Secretaire Intimc — \ 

I do not read French novels, Mr. Seyern.'’^ 

“ Well, if you ever should read that book, you will know 
what I mean. She may not have intended my conge to 
have been humiliating, for she is naturally kind-hearted, 
but it most decidedly had that effect upon me. I have 
neither seen nor heard of her since; and I have not the 
least idea where she is.^^ 

Oh, you will no doubt see her or Fear from her in suf- 
ficiently good time, Mr. Severn. Yours, I am sure, is not 
a faint heart. And in the little interval you must bear up, 
possess your soul in patience and wait. 

“ You are mocking me,^^ I said. 

“ I am not mocking you at all. It is not kind of you or 
fair of you to say so. I am only doing what is right. 

I hardly knew what I said. I went at my task with the 
pertinacity of a Caleb Cushing. I said the sama thing over 
and over again, using vain repetitions as the heathen do, in 
the hope that I should be heard for my much speakmg. 
And to my astonishment I actually produced my effect. 
Before we had left the ice Izzie had told me that she be- 
lieved every word I had said, and was as fond of me as ever. 

Thus, then, I went home in a happy frame of mhid, and 
made myself more than usually agreeable to the other 
members of the household. 

Next morning the weather had changed. It was not ex- 
actly raining, but a sort of Scotch mist was falling, and 
the mercury wa» slightly above freezing point, var3dng un- 
easily as the wind sliifted. The surface of the snow, in- 
stead of being clear and crisp, was pitted and scarred; and 
with each movement of the boughs, the trees shook off 
their burdens, while the eves and thatch dripped monot- 
onously. 

I was watching all this in a dissatisfied and querulous 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


55 


frame of mind from one of the windows in the hall, when 
I saw Mi\ Vivian^s dog-cart driving hurriedly up the 
avenue. Mr. Vivian himself held the reins, and his groom 
occupied the hack seat. I guessed there was mischief, and 
I certainly had no intention of shirking the fray, but I 
judged it more prudent, for the present at any rate, to 
keep out of the way and to see how events might shape 
themselves, instead of doing anything rash on my own ac- 
count. Accordingly I retreated from the hall, instead of 
advancing, as I ordinarily should have done, to greet the 
new-comer. 

I heard, from an upper room which commanded the hall, 
Mr. Vivian enter, and saw him ushered into the library, 
where, as I knew, my father was at that time, busy with 
his newspapers, letters and accounts. Then I withdrew to 
the shrubberies and indulged in a pipe, leaving word with 
the servants where I could be found in case I was wanted. 

I had no occasion to think out my plans, as I had 
nothing of which to be ashamed and nothhig to conceal. 
If I had not exactly covered myself with glory up in Lon- 
don, I had, at all events, been called within the usual time, 
and was now a barrister-at-law, ranking heraldically as es- 
quhe with justices of the peace, and immediately after the 
sheriff and the county coroner. My love episode with 
Mrs. Brabazon, and my transactions with Mr. Raphael, 
were certainly unknown to either Mr. Vivian or my father j 
else the latter would have alluded to them at once, and in 
no very pleasant manner, on the moment of my return, 
while I should have been told by Izzie that her father 
knew all about them. 

Something else must have happened; and what it was I 
very soon discovered, as a footman, specially sent on the 
service, hunted me out, and summoned me to my father^s 
presence. When I entered the library, a dull, ponderous 
room, with ponderous and dilapidated furniture, my father 
was standhig upon the rug in his most approved attitude of 


50 


JACK AKD THKEE JILLS. 


command, while Mr. Vivian was seated in a stiff horse-hair 
chair, looking anything but comfortable. 

I entered the room defiantly, and with a look that most 
distinctly said, “ Gentlemen of the guard, fire first. My 
father commenced in his most pompous manner. 

‘‘ Mr. Vivian informs me,- Jack, that you have so far 
violated all those rules of hospitahty by which the conduct 
of a gentleman ought always to be controlled and, I may 
say, guided, as to again address yourself to his daughter in 
a most unbecoming and, indeed, ungentlemanly fashion. 
You have, he tells me, assuring me that he has the word of 
the young lady herself for the fact, again spoken to her of 
your affection, in spite of all that has taken place, and of 
all the unhappiness that your conduct has caused. You 
have, in fact, he tells me, made love to her. If, sir, this 
be so, your conduct calls for, and in my judgment de- 
mands, something much more than an explanation.^^ 

Mr. Vivian expressed his entire concurrence in these 
choicely worded and evenly balanced sentiments, emphasiz- 
ing his opinion with an oath which, if neither novel nor ap- 
propriate, was at all events vigorous and cheerful, and for 
which either of the two gentlemen would any day in his 
capacity of magistrate have fined an agricultural laborer 
five shillings, with five-and-twenty shillings costs, or in de- 
fault have committed him for the largest possible period of 
hard labor allowed by the statutes in that case made and 
provided. 

A confused metaphor will best express my state of mind. 
The murder was out, so I stood to my guns. 

What you have heard, sir, is perfectly correct.-’^ 

“Then, by the Lord, you ought to be horsewhipped!^^ 
roared Mr. Vivian. 

“ You are under a father’s roof, sir,” I replied, turning 
on him so sharply that he started in his chair. “ If that 
is really your opinion you may give it me again in the mar- 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


57 


ket-place on Tuesday next, and I will bring my own whip 
with me for your convenience. 

Now this Was really dreadful. It was altogether too 
much. Here was I, a mere boy, defying a couple of gen-* 
tlemen, of whom one had actually been high sheriff, while 
the other was every year expecting to be* pricked. The 
speech fell upon the two magnates like a bomb-shell. 
They could hardly believe their ears. Not Captain Van- 
slyperken in Marryat^s inimitable ‘‘ Dog-Fiend could 
have been more outraged on hearing that the audacious 
Jemmy had d d the eyes of the port admiral. 

“ You ought to be ashamed of yourself, sir!^^ cried my 
father, throwing into his voice as much of a roar as its nat- 
ural compass would permit. 

“You are only after my daughter's money bellowed 
Mr. Vivian, with select words of emphasis of his own. 

Now, Mr. Vivian ^s estates were within a month of pass- 
ing from his hands when he had rescued them from the 
hammer by marrying Izzie^s mother — one of the two 
daughters of a wealthy oil crusher and linseed cake manu- 
facturer at Wapping. And of this fact I thought the op- 
portunity offered itself to cheerfully remind him. 

He rapped out another oath worthy of a regimental ser- 
geant-major, and struggled to his feet with every symptom 
of imminent apoplexy. 

“ Leave the room, sir!^^ yelled my father. 

“ Certainly, sir,^^T replied; and swinging round on my 
heel I slammed the door after me briskly and defiantly, as 
a sort of farewell slap in the face. 

Then I deliberately lighted a cigar in the hall, and so 
strolled out on the terrace, where I knew they could see 
me, and sauntered indolently up and down, puffing at 
my cigar with sufficient pantomime to indicate thorough 
enjoyment of it. 

They must have talked for about twenty minutes, and 
then I heard Mr. Vivian "^s dog-cart roll away over the 


58 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


gravel. I returned into the liouse, marclied in«to the but- 
ler’s pantry and drew myself a tankard of ale. This I 
consumed slowly and deliberately; but my father either did 
not want me, or certainly did not send for me, and as there 
was nothing better to be done, I selected myself a stout 
walking-stick, whistled a favorite terrier from the stable- 
yard, and once in the high-road set off at a brisk pace for 
the nearest village, where I intended to see the landlord of 
the Severn Arms, and gather from him, so far as I could, 
what amount of gossip as to my affahs might he afloat. 


CHAPTEE X. 

Early the next morning one of. the grooms found me 
out, and handed me a letter. It had been given him by a 
gardener ^'of Mr. Vivian’s, to whom it had been given by 
one of the maid-servants, and having passed through so 
many hands, it was proportionately dirty and crumpled. 
I tore open the envelope, and found inside a letter which, 
of course, I had expected, and which, with all its girlish 
iteration, and doubts and hopes and fears, it would be un- 
kind to set out here in totidem verha. 

Izzie was heart-broken. Her father had threatened all 
kinds of dreadful things; but she did not believe that the 
law would allow him to do any of them, and so she didn’t 
much care. Besides, she was weary of life. As for giving 
me up, nothing should ever make her do anything of the 
sort; and as for believing all the horrid, odious, dreadful 
things that they all kept on saying about me, she did not 
believe a word of them, and wished to tell me that no 
power on earth would ever make her do so. She would 
give anything to see me, if it was only for a minute, and 
she should always think of me the last thing at night and 
the first thing in the morning. 

Of course, she would never for a moment do anything so 
horrible as to marry any one except myself. At the same 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


59 


time, she felt she could not marry without her father^s con- 
sent, but he was very fond of her, and no doubt in a year 
or two I should be defending all the murderers at the 
assizes, and so be made a judge or even lord chancellor, 
and between now and then she would do all she could to 
coax him round. And then came her signature in a bold, 
firm hand. 

I put her letter into my inner breast coat-pocket, and, to 
prevent the possibility of accident, carefully pinned the 
pocket up. I devoted the best part of the day to a brisk 
stroll through the fields of neighboring and friendly 
farmers, taking with me a light single-barreled gun, and a 
favorite old clumber spaniel. 

I knocked over a hare, which I left at the house of the 
tenant on whose land it had been killed, and in some 
marshy land flushed and bowled over a brace of jack snipe, 
which I reserved for our rector. Then I strode manfully 
home to dinner, resolving to get to my room as soon as 
possible after the meal, to light a roaring fire, and to sit 
before it and think things over. The virtuous, or, at all 
events, modest programme I fully carried out. Only, be- 
fore I had been thinking things over five minutes, the 
warmth and the noisy crackle of the blazing logs made me 
drowsy, and ultimately I fell asleep, until I was roused by 
the crash an(i rattle of my pipe, which had. fallen from be- 
tween my teeth into the fender. Then I pulled myself to- 
gether, undressed leisurely, and, under the immense quilt 
of strange old fancy patch- work, dreamed placidly and per- 
sistently, not of Izzie Vivian, but of Mrs. Brabazon.- 
Philosophers and psychologists tell us that we are not re- 
sponsible for our dreams, and I suppose this must be the 
case, for, as the great philosopher Plato has pointed out, 
even the most respectable and sober-minded of people are 
apt at times to dream of the most extraordinary and awful 
things, and very often to be the chief actors in and about 
them. From which he argues that, in sleep, we can pretty 


60 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


well estimate tlie worst side of our nature, guage for our- 
selves its intensity, and so the better put ourselves on our 
guard against it in our waking moments. 

All this is very philosophical, and may or may not he 
true.. But it is undeniably certain that, as a matter of 
fact, I dreamed of Mrs. Brabazon, of whom, for some days 
past, I had not even been thinking. I was yachting with 
her, and then hunting with her, and then skating with 
her. But whatever I was doing, she was with me, and 1 
am bound to confess that I felt the better and brighter 
and happier for her company. 

Next morning came a long interview with my father, 
which gave me a deeper insight than ever into the extent of 
his worldly wisdom. In reality, it seemed the old gentle- 
man would be immensely pleased to see me married to Miss 
Vivian. There was nothing he would like better, only he 
did not care to say so, or, to be more exact, had not the 
necessary moral courage to say so. He was dreadfully 
afraid of offending Mr. Vivian, who was richer by far and 
more powerful than himself, and with whom all the squires 
romid about would be sure to side. He owned this to me 
with a frankness worthy of Panurge himself, and after 
using some very strong language with regard to Mr. 
Vivian, and more especially with regard to his eyes, liver, 
and soul, assured me that, as far as he had any feeling in 
the matter, he sympathized heartily with myself; that I 
had done nothing to be ashamed of; and that, when he 
was my age, he would have acted exactly as I had. The 
oration was prosy and self-conscious, but it was reassuring, 
and we shook hands heartily at its conclusion. 

My sisters were equally sympathetic, but vague, of 
course, as is the school-girl habit, hoping that all would 
come well, but not being exactly sure about it, and em- 
phasizing their remarks with sage shakings of the head. 
But they meant well; and upon the whole 1 felt that the 
tide of public opinion was distinctly in my favor. And it 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


61 


is always best to have public opinion with you, whether you 
be a cabinet minister or only a young and briefless bar- 
rister. 

Two days later the frost had entirely disappeared, and as 
the hounds met within two miles of our place, I modestly 
appareled myself in buckskins, Blucher boots, and a black 
coat, and trotted over to the meet. 

Izzie was there with her father, and with the old coach- 
man to do special duty as her groom; and in the bustle of 
trying to persuade an obstinate old fox to break cover, I 
. fomid myself near her. We had opportunity for a few 
hurried words. 

‘‘I thought it best, said I, not to answer your let- 
ter. The answer might not have reached you. ” 

You were quite right, she said; ‘‘ I doubt if it would 
have reached me. Now, all that you have got to do is to 
go back to town and set to work as hard as you can. I 
shall be sm’e to hear of you, and I dare say you will hear 
from me. But donT write until I write to you. And be 
very good and very industrious for my sake. ” 

This, of course, I Vowed ’ to be, and at that moment we 
heard from the other corner of the wood the cry of Gone 
away! gone away! gone away!^^ I had no resource but to 
leave Izzie under her escort and to settle down to my work. 

I rode hard that day, and straight, and f akly covered my- 
self with glory, being in the first flight and at the very tail 
of the hounds from start to finish. The fox was rolled 
over in the open, and there was but httle left of him by 
the time the hounds were beaten off. A* hard-riding farmer 
got the brush, which was presented with due solemnity to 
the eldest daughter of the lord lieutenant, who happened 
to be in the field ; and as it was too late for the chance of a 
second kill, I let out my stirrups and jogged leisurely 
home. 

My father, who was in good temper, congratulated me 
on my riding, of wliich he told me he had heard considera- 


62 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


ble praise in competent quarters, and we then had dinner 
together, and after dinner a bottle of port. The port 
warmed the old gentleman^s veins, and we sat smoking our 
cigars over the logs until the orthodox hour of ten, when I 
bid my father good-night. 

On my return to town, which took place in a day or two, 
I stuck to chambers with laudable assiduity, and actually 
got a few briefs. I did not burst upoij the world after the 
fashion of Erskine, but I tried to do my work efficiently 
and thoroughly. There is, as any barrister will tell you, 
hardly any step at the Bar between fifty pounds a year and 
five hundred. And I before long found that, one way and 
another, I was making as nearly five hundred as might be, 
and, in fact, was being looked upon as a rising yoimg 
man. 

It has been said that a leading firm of London solicitors 
can take a young man fresh from the university, pilot him 
through his career at the Bar, and eventually land him on 
the Woolsack. This may be a slightly exaggerated state- 
ment, but, as far as my experience goes, it is substantially 
true. At all events, success at the Bar depends almost en- 
tirely upon the patronage of solicitors; and I should have 
had but a poor chance, if Mr. Honeybone, senior partner 
in the firm of Honeybone, Salter, Mould & Honeybone, 
of Lincoln^ Inn Fields, who, five-and-twenty years before, 
had been in the habit of instructing my grandfather, had 
not taken me up. ' 

“ I have heard, Mr. Severn, said Mr. Honeybone, who 
presented himself in person one day at my chambers, 
“ that you have been lately called to the Bar, and, for the 
sake of your grandfather — a most remarkably talented gen- 
tleman, -eir, who, if he had met with his deserts, would have 
been lord chancellor — I am anxious to do what I can for 
you. I hope to send you a few briefs, and if you will kind- 


JACK AKI) THTIEE JILLS. 


C>S 

ly give them your attention, I am sure that our relations 
will not be unsatisfactory, so far as you are concerned.” 

I thanked Mr. Honeybone very cordially^ and promised 
to do my best; and I am bound to say that he was as good 
as his word, and, in the language of the judge in Mr. Gil- 
bert’s witty skit, ‘‘ Trial by Jury,” “ briefs came trooping 
gayly. ” Through Mr. Honeybone’s intervention I became 
known, and I got om I shall never forget his disinterested 
kindness. 

I lived with the strictest economy, allowing myself no 
amusement except my favorite pool; and thus it came 
about that, one happy morning, I foimd, on consulting my 
banker’s book, that I was able to draw a check for some- 
thing more than the one hundred and twenty pounds I 
owed Susan Brabazon, and to purchase into the bargain, at 
London & Eyder’s, a very handsome little bracelet of 
emeralds and black pearls. 

Armed with the check and with a bracelet neatly packed, 
I made my way to Mrs. Brabazon’s solicitor in the Old 
Jewry, who again refused to give me the address of his 
client, but informed me that he would at once forward any 
letter to her that I might give to him. So I left my letter 
and its inclosure together with the little parcel m his hands, 
and went my way. 

Four days later I found a letter from her at my cham- 
bers, so characteristic that I can not refrain from giving its 
words — 

“Grand Hotel, Nice, November 19, 18.— 

“ My deak Jack, — I have heard of you oftener than 
you have thought. I have made it my business to be 
posted up in your movements, and I. can see, from the law 
reports in the newspapers, that you are doing very well in- 
deed. I always thought this would be so, and if good 
wishes help any one, you have most certainly had mine. 

I do not mind telling you that I should like to see you 


64 


JACK Am THREE JILLS. 


again, and hardly think there would be any imiu’opriety in 
doing so. What say you? Suppose when the courts rise 
for the Christmas vacation, you run over here for a week 
or a fortnight, and eh^’oy yourself quietly, or, as I have to 
go to Ireland, shall I take London in my way? I think I 
should Like to see dull old London again, and if "you be- 
have youi’self you may take me about a little. That will, 
I think, be the best However, I leave it to you. 

If you insist on treating my little present as a debt, I 
can not quarrel with you, and do not think the worse of 
you for your independence. The bracelet is a very beauti- 
ful one, and you shall see it on my wrist when we meet. 

‘‘ If you wire to me, I wiU start for Paris at once, and if 
you like to see me across the Channel, I will meet you at 
the Westminster, where 1 generally stay, and we will have 
a night at the play, or, if you prefer it, at the Eden — I 
would as soon the one as the other. Kind love. 

“ Ever yours, 

Susan. 

I wired as I was requested, and left London for Paris the 
next night. Is there any pride of a better kind than that 
of a young man m spending, as a gentleman ought, the 
money which he has made by his honest work? 


CHAPTER XI. 

We had at Paris what I may distinctly term a good time 
of it. Susan’s tastes were still as simple as ever. We went 
to the theater; we dined modestly at Bignon’s, and the 
only approach to anything like frivolity was an evening at 
the Eolies Berger^s, with a supper afterward at the Cafe 
de la Paix. 

Susan was the same as ever— warm-hearted, full of life, 
and evidently thoroughly happy to be with me again. The 
day in Paris became fom’ or five days of the most intense 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


65 


enjoyment. Recollect, I had neyer before been to Paris in 
my life. And then, at last, we found ourselves in the 
Calais train hurrying over the snow-clad country, with all 
the paraphernalia of railway travel complete. Oddly 
enough, we encountered no one whom we knew on the 
journey, and I deposited Susan at the Charing Cross Hotel, 
taking up my abode at my chambers. 

Next evening we diiied early at Francatelli^s and went, 
after dinner, to the Lyceum, where I had secured a couple 
of stalls. Irving was more than usually characteristic. 
His sect would, no doubt, have considered him at his best, 
although I doubt if Macbeth is altogether a part that suits 
him. I was, however, thoroughly enjoying the perform- 
ance, when, between the acts, I stood up to* take a look 
round the house, and, to my astonishment and discomfit- 
ure, saw Izzie with some friends in a private box. 

I bowed to her at once, but she returned my salute with 
a quiet, steady stare, and then began to busy herself in con- 
versation with a young man of the most approved Foreign 
Office type, who was leaning over the back of her chair. 

There was nothing to he done for it hut to sue the piece 
out, which I did, paying my companion the most marked 
attention, and otherwise assuming an air of thorough defi- 
ance. 

When the curtain finally fell, I looked after her wrajis 
and opera-glass, took her boldly through the foyer to our 
brougham, into which I had the pleasure of handing her 
and following her under Izzie ’s very eyes. We went to a 
restaurant famous for its suppers; and that most enjoyable 
meal of the day over, I saw her to her hotel. Then I 
lighted my cigar, and strolled back to the Temple in a 
meditative frame of mind. 

“ There will be,’" said I to myself, as I finally blew out 
my candle, the very deyil himself to pay, and short 
allowance of pitch,” and like a bad young man I went to 
sleep. 

3 


66 


JACK AND THEEE JILLS. 


During the afternoon of the next day I got a letter 
which, for better security, had been registered. I knew the 
handwriting, I need hardly say, and tore it open. 

Dear Mr. Severn, it began, — “ After what I saw 
last night, you can hardly be surprised at my writing to 
you to tell you that you must never speak to me again, and 
that if you do I must ask my father to protect me from 
you. 

“ You have behaved very cruelly and very wickedly. I 
would not have believed it of you if your worst enemies had 
told me as much. I will not say a word about sorrow, for 
I doubt if I feel any. If you have any letters of mine, I 
trust to such good feeling as there may still be in you to 
let me have them back at once, and never to mention my 
name to any of your acquaintances or friends. 

“ Yours truly, 

“ Isabella Vivian. 

The epistle acted upon me like a cold douche. I read it 
three or four times before locking it up in my secretary. 
Then I p»t on my hat and sallied out in a purposeless 
manner toward Spring Gardens and St. James’s Park. 

“ After all,” said I to myself, “ if this is really a speci- 
men of her temper, perhaps things are better as they are. 
I, at all events, will not allow myself to be worried by so 
preposterous a quarrel. ” This frame of mind ultimately 
brought me to the Windham, where I looked in for my let- 
ters, and finding none to trouble me, had a philosophical 
lunch. There is some marvelous burgundy at the Wind- 
ham Avhich is much to be recommended as steadying the 
nerves, nor does it go at all amiss with game pie. 

I could now afford myself these small creature comforts, 
and I was not above doing so. Then I turned over the 
evening papers, and so lighted my cigar and strolled round to 
Charing Cross. Mrs. Brabazon had afternoon tea to offer 
me, and was pleasanter than ever. If I had nothing better 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


67 


to do that evening, would I give her the rest of the day? 
She would play the piano if I liked, or we could talk, or I 
might make myself comfortable on the sofa, and if I chose, 
go to sleep. 

I elected to stop with her, and she came and sat by my 
side. Once again I was thoroughly happy. I have no idea 
what we talked about, or whether we talked at all, but I 
remember the hours slipping by until dinner-time; and I 
remember that after dinner we drew up our chairs in front 
of the fire, and made ourselves very happy and comforta- 
ble. It was two 'o^clock before I left her. On the table in 
my chambers was my clerk^s usual memorandum. The 
day was a blank one. I had no case in the paper, and no 
clients wanted an appointment. The prospect of a holiday 
suited me exactly, for I had of late had quite as much work 
as I wanted. So I drew the bearskin coverlet over myself 
in a happy frame of mind, and slept far too soundly for 
any dreams. 

When my laundress roused me in the morning to inquire 
whether I would have tea or brandy and soda, I virtuously 
chose the tea, and I then sauntered down to the Windham 
to draft an answer to Izzie^s letter. ‘‘lam not a boy to 
have my face slapped in this way,^^ I muttered to myself, 
as I turned into St. James^’s Square. 'And the undeniable 
truth of this refiection put me in the best possible terms 
with myself, so that I glanced over my “ Times with all 
the importance of a county member, or a city merchant, 
and threatened to back my bill with a complaint as to the 
inferior quality of my fillet of sole. The gray-headed 
coffee-room clerk was startled, and evidently wondered 
what the world was coming to when young men, little 
more than school-boys, ordered the waiters about as if the 
club were an ordinary hotel, and wound up their breakfast 
with liquor. 


68 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


CHAPTER XIL 

Thei^ I concocted a letter to Izzie. It was very long, 
and no donbt very stupid. But it practically told her as 
much of the truth as it was at all convenient for me that 
she should know. I began by accusing her of a jealousy 
which, I boldly declared, amounted almost to insanity, and 
warned her that to give way to idle suspicion without rea- 
son or inquiry would make her life a burde'n to herself, and 
lose her the friendship of all those whose opinion she might 
value. 

I told her that Mrs. Brabazon was, as she must now have 
seen for herself, sufficiently old to make the idea of our be- 
ing in love with 6ach other ludicrous. I had met her at the 
boarding-house in Bayswater, of which she had heard me 
speak, and which was a cheap, humdrum, respectable 
place, with a curate and a Scotch spinster among its lead- 
hig pensionnaires. Our acquaintance, thus commenced, had 
improved. * More than that I had nothing to tell. If any 
man said a word against Mrs. Brabazon, I should know 
how to act. As for what women might say or think I 
cared very httle. 

I was sorry she wanted her letters back, but I supposed 
I must send them, else she might perhaps accuse me of 
showing them about. She should receive them by hand 
that evening. 

Then I stopped to consider whether there was anything 
else disagreeable that I could conveniently add, and com- 
ing to the conclusion that there was not, went round to the 
address in Princes Gate from which she had written, and 
left the letter with my card in person. 

Then I made my way back to my chambers, hmited up 
all her letters to me, arranged them neatly in chronological 
order, docketed them savagely with their dates, tied them 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


69 


lip with most uncompromising red tape, sealed them up in 
a linen envelope, and sent them down to Princes Gate by a 
trustworthy commissionaire. 

After all this I turned into the Strand, and down a little 
court on the south side, where there is a Eoman well of icy- 
cold water perpetually spurting up from the ground into a 
small stone bath. Into this I plunged, and came out feel- 
ing considerably fresher and better. After a bath a small 
cup of black coffee is, as we all know, recommended by the 
faculty. The bath and the coffee over I walked briskly 
down to Charing Cross. - 

Susan was in and radiant. She was gomg to start for 
Ireland the next day. Meantime, she wanted another quiet 
evening. She had had quite enough of theaters, but I 
might, if I liked, take her out to dinner. 

So we dined at a hotel in Jermyn Street, which used to 
be then, and I believe still is, notorious for the skill of its 
chef, and then made our way back to Charing Cross, where 
we sat talking over one thing, and another until one in the 
morning. 

The next day, or, to be more exact, that day, I saw her 
off from Euston, and then with a light heart found myself 
in London my own master, free from trouble, but suffering 
from loneliness. There are times when, as compared with 
London, most of us must have felt that the Sahara, or Tad- 
mor, or a Yucatan forest seem- cheerful, lively, bustling 
places. 

Then I betook myself to my club, where, after a cutlet 
and a pint of claret, I withdrew to the smoking-room with 
a view of thinking things over. 

Thinking things over, even in the most comfortable of 
chairs, usually leaves things pretty much where they were 
when you began. Your life is before you like a great dio- 
rama, or a view from a mountain top, but you gain very 
little additional knowledge. All I arrived at in the way of 
a conclusion was that, for the present, I might just as well 


70 


JACK AND THE EE JILLS. 


let things take their course. This sage resolve made, and 
the night being still young, I walked off to Eegent Street, 
where I had the satisfaction of convincing a young and 
promising marker that he still had a good deal to learn. 
And I then made my way hack to my chambers, and read 
myself to sleep with a novel. There is all the difference in 
the world between an idle day and a vicious day, although 
it suits a certain class of parsons, and a certain stamp of 
steady men of business to affect to confound the two. 
There are worse pleasures in the world than sitting on a 
five-harred gate, listening to the lark, and thinking of noth- 
ing. Of course bishops and lord chancellors and city men 
never sit on a gate and listen to the lark. So much the 
worse for them; that is all. 

He « * 4: 

A few days later Susan took town on her way hack to 
Nice. She gave up to me the best part of a day, and we 
enjoyed ourselves quietly and pleasantly after our usual 
manner. 

Her own portion of the amusement consisted to a great 
extent in giving me good advice. I was to keep out of 
debt; I was to stick to the Bar, and avoid wasting the day 
of little beginnings. I had better have my name up at 
good chambers in the Temple, and have a room in some 
river-side street off the Thames, or, better still, in May- 
fair. I was to avoid gambling, and as soon as I could 
afford it, to keep a horse — a horse of his own being, in her ^ 
opinion, as necessary to a young man in town, if he can 
afford it, as is even his club. 

I listened very patiently to all this, interspersing it with 
comments of my own, and we parted the best of friends. 

‘‘ You shall hear from me,^^ she said, ‘‘ regularly once a 
week, and you must write back once a week. You were 
always a dear good boy, and you amuse me immensely. 
In the good old days of the good old East India Company 
you would have carved your way out pretty well with your 


JACK AND THKEE JILLS. 


71 


sword. But there^s right stuff in you. Jack, if you don^t 
let it rust. And now you must go for the night. I have 
things to do and people to see. I leave by the tidal to- 
morrow, and you may come to the hotel, if you like, three 
quarters of an hour before it starts/^ 

I went to the hotel at the time appointed, saw her get 
into the train, and then quietly followed her in, insisting 
that I had nothing else to do for the day; that I pass the 
afternoon at Folkestone, and that the smell of sea air would 
do me good. 

Susan demurred a little at my disobedience, but I think 
that, upon the whole, she took the compliment as a prac- 
tical one and was pleased by it. What we had to say to 
one another my readers can pretty well guess. We were 
neither of us in the love-making stage or the love-making 
mood, and if our compartment had contained fom’ other 
passengers, their presence would in no way have disconcert- 
ed or annoyed us. 

I saw her safely on board, waited till the very last stroke 
of the bell, and then stood on the quay and watched until 
the vessel faded away into a streak of smoke, and the 
streak of smoke itself into the haze of the horizon. 

I returned to London by the afternoon train and got to 
my chambers. Next day I did a good day^s work. Busi- 
ness was beginning to grow upon me, and it was business, 
too, of a good kind — mercantile work from large city firms, 
where there are thousands of pounds involved on each side, 
and a few hundreds of guineas, more or less, for counsel is 
but a mere trifle in the bill of costs. 

I had a naturally clear head, and I took a keen interest 
in the topography and natural history of that debatable 
belt of ground which lies between the custom of merchants 
and the law of the land. And now there began to appear 
upon my shelves the United States law reports as well as 
those of my own country, and if my friends had wanted to 
see my name in the papers, they would have had to look to 


72 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


the reports of what were then called the sittings at Guild- 
hall, and to those of the Admiralty and the wreck commis- 
sioners^ court. Work of this kind is very lucrative. I 
had, before long, to consult my hankers as to how I should 
invest my savings. I took lodgings in Mayfair, as Susan 
had suggested, and at six o^clock in the evening, during 
each day in term, a groom used to make his appearance 
with my horse under the windows of my chambers. 

I could have dined out if I had so pleased every evening, 
but I used to plead business as an excuse as often as I 
could, and got the reputation of being a more or less ob- 
stinate bachelor. 

Of any vice, unless playing bilHards for the love of the 
thing be a vice,* I was utterly ignorant. I was never seen 
in questionable company, or at questionable places of re- 
sort. Fast clubs — the Monaco, the Ecarte Club, and the 
Peacock were unknown to me; and if a private, detective 
had been told by any anxious mother to watch my 
movements, he would, I am sure, have reported that I was 
a most quiet and well-conducted young man. 

I had all this time received no answer to my letter from 
Izzie, although I heard of her from my sisters and occa- 
sionally from people in the neighborhood. Sometimes her 
silence distressed me; at others it simply made me angry. 
But, exactly as muscles will wither from disuse, I began to 
find myself growing indifferent toward her, if not indeed 
positively a little resentful. In a very few years, if things 
went on as they were going, I should be a queen '’s counsel. 
I had already made up my mind to endeavor to secure a 
seat in Parliament at the next general election. 

Meantime I regarded home and everything connected 
with it with a daily increasing apathy. If I had met my 
father in Pall Mall I should most probably have nodded to 
him. If I had met him out at dinner I should have shaken 
hands and asked him how he was. But there is no greater 
mistake in the world than to fancy yourself master of des- 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


73 


tiny because you happen for the moment to be master of 
the situation. Were I given to sticking up texts over my 
portals, the one I should select would be, I think, Time 
and I against any two. Only, take the old father respect- 
fully but firmly by his forelock, else he will shamble by 
you and you will find yourself idle in the market-place. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

Lokg vacation came at last, after six months of more 
than usually hard work, compensated for by more than 
unusually heavy fees. 

My lodging in Chapel Street, Park Lane, had their shut- 
ters put up, and the upholsterer^’s man solemnly wrapped 
my books and pictures in brown holland. My horses had 
their shoes taken off and were turned out to grass, and my 
groom condescended to transmute himself for the nonce 
into a traveling factotum. 

I began with some idea of visiting either Venice or the 
ruined cities of Zuyder Zee; but I abandoned each idea. 
Barristers in practice take their pleasures very mechanic- 
ally. They object to long journeys and hotels, crowded 
with a surging ebb and flow of tourists of all kuids from 
the rotuirer of St. Swithin^s Lane, down to the suburban 
grocer, intent upon his honey-moon. 

So I ran down to one of the quaintest little places that I 
know in England — Dawlish, which is too near Torquay to 
become a suburb of that immense city of villas, as Paign- 
ton has, and which still remains little more than an over- 
grown village, with its trout stream babbling down its cen- 
ter to the sea, and its lodging houses on either bank, and 
behind it running way up the chine into the hills, the 
hanging woods of Luscombe. Dawlish had begun to boast 
of a hotel, and after ingratiating myself with the landlord, 
I took his best sitting-room and a couple of bedrooms, tell- 
ing him that I might want the second for a friend. And 


74 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


the day being now drawing toward its close, I took a brisk 
stroll along the sea-wall to what is called the Warren. 

Dawlish is as dull and primitive a place as you need 
come across in a fortnight's tour. Luckily I had brought 
down some novels and a box of my own cigars Besides, if 
I did not like the place, I had only to leave it. It is a 
funny thing, I said to myself, as I turned into bed that 
night, ‘‘ you declare very valiantly that, ii you do not like 
a place, you have only to leave it. You go down to it. 
You find it a more beastly place than even the worst re- 
ports of its enemies had led you to expect. There is noth- 
ing to he done. There is not even shooting or fishing; and 
yet you find yourself stopping on and loafing about with 
your hands in your pockets, and chatting to the boatmen, 
and vowing every day that you will go to-morrow. Now, 
I shouldnT be at all surprised if you were to find yourself 
doing nothing here for a fortnight at least. Well, perhaps 
a fortnight on the mud will do you no harm. And if you 
want excitement, Torquay and Paignton are handy. 

Next morning I Avrote to Mrs. Brabazon, whose address I 
happened to know, telling her where I was, and asking her 
to come down and prevent suicide from melancholia, which 
would certainly be my fate if she did not intervene, as now 
that I had got to the place, I felt far too lazy, apathetic 
and nerveless to leave it. 

The letter was hardly any exaggeration. South Devon 
is the most enervating climate in England, or, for the mat- 
ter of that, in the whole of her majesty ^s dominions. Nor 
do things mend until you approach the limits of Cornwall. 
The women are old and haggard at thirty, and gray and 
wrinkled at thirty-five, while the men by forty are eaten up 
with rheumatic gout, and its kindred ailments. A week of 
it is, or thought to be, enough for any man. So I was 
thinking to myself, when the chamber-maid brought me 
my early cup of coffee and my letters. 

I dispatched all pf them before I came to Mrs, Braba- 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


75 


zon^s. Hers was short, womanly and friendly. She had 
heard of Dawlish, she told me, and had kno'wn people who 
had been there once. She had never even heard of any 
one who had had the hardihood to venture there a second 
time. No doubt I found it dull, but she would come derwn 
with pleasure. I might expect her at any hour, and had 
better make preparations for her speedy advent. 

She dated from London, and only two trains from Lon" 
don, reached Dawlish in the course of the day, so I killed 
time by wandering toward the Warren in quest of sand- 
piper until the indicated hour for the arrival of the first 
train, and met it in looking, as I flattered myself, fresh 
and bronzed and wholesome as a young Englishman should. 

Mrs. Brabazon arrived by it, and after giving orders 
about her luggage, I took her up to the hotel and installed 
her in her quarters. Then we taxed the resources of the 
town, and discovered a pony-basket, with a decent Exmoor 
pony, and so made our way up to Luscombe. 

Luscombe was in all its beauty, and I know few country 
seats more lovely. I certainly would sooner own it than 
either Powderham or Chudleigh. It is a place that will 
gladden the heart of a Stanfield or a Gainsborough — dis- 
tinctly English scenery; as English as Normandy itself, 
which is sa 3 dng a good deal. 

Then we returned to the inn, and had one of our old 
happy Ute-a-tete dinners, after which she, as usual, took 
the sofa, while I wheeled an arm-chair up by her feet, and 
stretched myself out in placid enjoyment of a cigar, with 
some black coffee. 

“ And how are you getting on at the Bar?^^ she asked. 

Are you paying the rent of 'your chambers and your 
evening steak and mashed potatoes at the Cock?^^ 

“ I have nothing to grumble at,^^ 1 laughed. I have 
chambers in the Temple on the first floor, with imposing 
Turkey carpet, oak furniture, and properly bound law re- 
ports, from the earjjest days down to the latest monthly 


76 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


number. My clerk is prosperous^, and has a villa of his 
own somewhere up at Stoke Newington. My own cham- 
bers are in Chapel Street, and I ride up to the Temple 
every morning. That will let you know how the Bar has 
usid me. It is a most gambling profession. You may 
stick at it for years and never pay your laundress, or you 
may get into the right groove in a manner simply miracu- 
lous. As often as not the cleverest men are left in the 
ditch, while men with not a tithe of their wits or of their 
solid knowledge, sail away over the country with both 
hands down. You never can tell; I will defy anybody to 
do so. 

She laughed at this, but I could see that her mind was a 
little uneasy, and she arranged her pose very skillfully. 

“ And how about your love affairs? I suppose you have 
had any number.'’^ 

‘‘ A barrister in full work has no time for love-making. 
It is as much as he can do to dine out once or twice a week. 
If he is to do any justice to his work, he must keep his 
head clear by going to bed at twelve, or even eleven if he 
can manage it. That is why barristers so often marry 
their cooks or their laundresses. They say, as they look in 
the glass and see the crows^ feef and the bald temples, ‘ By 
Jove! Ik’s getting time I married. Whom shall I marry? 
Why not Mrs. Jackson? She knows my ways, and she 
won’t give herself airs. ’ It’s certainly not romantic — quite 
the reverse; but then you know it has been profoundly ob- 
served that the perfection of sound English common law is 
nothing more nor less than the perfection of sound English 
common sense.” 

And have you informed your laundress of your inten- 
tion?” 

‘‘No, I have not. She is a married woman with one 
eye, six children — whom she supports — and a drunken hus- 
band, whom she occasionally thrashes. You might, -as 
Sydney Smith said, read the Iviot Act to her and disperse 


JACK AND THKEE JILLS. 


77 


her, or call out the military to ride her down, or send her 
out to people a colony, but the idea of any one man marry- 
ing her as she now stands is simply ridiculous. It is out of 
the question.'’^ 

‘‘ Then your heart is whole?^^ 

“ Absolutely whole, I replied, and as hard as a bul- 
lock^s hide, or the nether millstone itself. My love days 
are over. I look back on them with much the same curi- 
osity as I do on the old days' of marbles, jam tarts, and 
green apples. 

Then, I suppose, you will marry for money 

I make more money than I can spend. I have to ask 
my bankers what to do with it every now and again. 

‘‘ Then you will marry a judge ^s daughter, or the daugh- 
ter of some peer with a large family. 

Why on earth can you not believe me? I have told 
you that I prefer my freedom, and that I mean to keep it. 
Why, H I were to marry I should have to be solemnly 
reconciled to my family. And what a fearful purgatoiy 
in Jife that would involve. My father has tried drawing 
bills on me as it is, but I have refused tcTpay them, and 
have left him to take the consequences, which, I fancy, 
were unpleasant. 

‘‘You might surely make a marriage that would involve 
none of these terrible consequences. You could find a 
woman who. would sympathize with you, look up to you, 
obey you, and be an ornament to your house. ” 

“ I do not know where such a woman is to be found. 
And I have no house, and so do not want my house 
adorned. I prefer my liberty to everything else in the 
world, and it is my inflexible determination to keep it. 

“ That sounds worse than hard-hearted. It sounds 
positively- selfish; and selfishness is hateful in the young. 

“ Perhaps it is. My youth, as you call it, will cure 
itself. My selfishness, I am afraid, will grow worse. It 


78 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


is, you know, the besetting sin that grows upon one with 
old age. 

‘‘ I shall argue with you no longer,-’^ she pouted, petu- 
lantly. 

‘‘ It would really be waste of time,^^ I replied, and 
now that we are together again, we can put our time to 
much better and brighter purpose. 

“ Very well, Jack,^^ she said, I suppose you must have 
your own way,-’^ and in a minute or two we were chatting 
about all manner of things as if nothing whatever had 
passed. 

It was a glorious moonlight, and we took a turn on the 
Parade by the side of the railway, before bringing the day 
to a close. 

Good-night,’^ I said, as I shook hands with her in the 
little hall. “We will breakfast at nine to-morrow, if it 
suits you, and I will come back to you fresh from the sea 
and fragrant of ozone. ” 

“ Good-night/’ she said, “ and pleasant dreams.” And 
so, under the very eyes of the gaunt and bitter chamber- 
maid, we parted with an affectionate kiss. 

“ Thank Heaven!” said I, as I blew out my candle and 
dived into bed. “ Thank Heaven that that business is 
over for good and all! But it was a fair crunch while it 
lasted.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Three days later we left Dawlish. I took Brabazon up 
to London, and deposited her in safety at the Charing 
Cross Hotel, en route for the Continent. And we dined 
together again — this time at a noted Italian restaurant, 
where they keep Chianti, and as near an approach to 
Lachrymae Christi as a man who dines in a public room 
has any right to expect for his money. 

Then we spent the evening together by a large open 


JACK AND THKEE JILLS. 


79 


window, looking down in all the roar and turmoil of Lon- 
don. We had nothing much about which to talk, being 
perfectly en accord, so that we "were most delightfully lazy. 
I remember, amongst other things, that we played first at 
Bob-Cherry, and then at Fly-Loo. The former pastime 
has the merit of contorting your features and making you 
ridiculous. You must take a fine cherry by the stalk be- 
tAveen your teeth, bend your head doAvn fairly over your 
plate, and try to pull up the cherry into your mouth by 
the aid of your teeth and your tongue. The feat is far 
more difficult than might he supposed. 

Fly-Loo is much simpler, requiring nothing on your own 
part but entire immobility. You select a lump of sugar, 
and place it m the center of your plate. Your friend at 
the other side of the table does the same; or you may make 
a round game of it with as many players as you hke. The 
pool is formed, and is swept by the man upon whose sugar 
the first fly settles. As there is no hanker the stakes are 
limited, and you need not ruin yourself at Fly-Loo unless 
you try very hard indeed to do so. 

When we had finished our Boh-Oherry and our Loo, I 
bid her a most genuinely affectionate good-night. Then I 
went round to my club and hurried off some necessary busi- 
ness letters. After that, I slept the sleep of the just, and 
next morning was rattling along the road to Scotland as 
fast as a couple of enormous engines, yoked tandem-fash- 
ion, could drag the long tram of heavily loaded carriages. 

I had secured a window seat in a smoking compartment. 
I had every traveling luxury from the morning papers to a 
luncheon case. This being so I could afford to disregard 
my companions. 

It is a had habit to make acquaintances in a railway 
train. Nine travelers out of every ten are distinct bores 
and the tenth is as often as not sometliiug very, much worse 
than a bore, no matter in what style he may he making Mg 
journey. 


80 


JACK AND THBEE JILLS. 


George Lachaud^ son of that veteran advocate^, Maitre 
Lachand, is a most amusing writer^ and when I was not 
looking out of the window I was laugliing at his pages. So 
the time slipped away, until with infinite click and rattle of 
points and levers and grinding of wheels, and blowing of 
the whistle, we rolled into Edinburgh, a city the hotels of 
which are as good as those of any other in the United 
Kingdom — if not indeed better. 

Next morning I continued my journey ip the direction 
of Killiecrankie, until I reached the shooting-box which my 
friends had taken. AVe were as compact a bachelor party 
as need be — about eight of us, all told, with any amount of 
stores and any number of gillies, and the water, as I was 
told, and soon found to .be the fact, was positively alive 
with fish. Next morning we sallied out early, and by the 
time we were disposed to return to the bothie I had landed 
four very creditable fish to my own rod, the largest, whicli 
was twenty-five pounds in weight, giving me very fair ex- 
ercise for more than half an hour. 

What an appetite the tramp over the bowlders by the 
river-side gives you! How your legs ache after it when you 
return for your scrub and evening toilet. How your arms 
• ache after wielding the immense double-handed rod. AYas 
it not Sir Humphrey Davy who said that there is no 
medium in anything, and that for liis part gudgeon fishing 
from a pmit on the Thames, and casting for salmon in a 
Scotch river, were the only two forms of sport for which he 
, cared? If so, he was more frank over his discovery than 
\ he was over one which he undoubtedly made, and which 
j has undopbtedly perished with him — I mean, of course, the 
i artiMal manufaotoe (rf the diamond. 

At that time the scientific world had not taught us that 
ozone is oiiq thing and oxygen another; and that ozone is 
to existence what champagne is to society — the one and 
only source of brilliancy and sparkle. But I had all the 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


81 


benefit of tbe ozone without knowing it, and soon began to 
feel a different man. 

The first requisite for success at the Bar/^ said a very 
eminent judge, ‘‘ is high animal spirits; and the second is 
high animal spirits; and the third is high animal spirits; 
and if to these a young man adds a little knowledge of law, 
it will not materially hamper him in his career. 

What is true of the Bar is true of the business of life, 
and I left the land of scones and salmon, cutlets and hag- 
gis, and Athole brose, feeling five hundred per cent, bet- 
ter, as a city man would say, than when I started for it. 
But there must be an end of all things, and it became time 
for me, with the end'of August, to move south, as I had an 
invitation which it was for my interest to accept, to spend 
the first of September, and as many days after as I might 
please, at the house of Lord Wessex, in Norfolk. 

Thither I went, armed with the latest novelty in choke 
bores, with my muscles almost in the condition of those of 
a professional pedestrian, and with that happily balanced 
mind which comes of jvell-grounded self-content. 

Wessex Hall was full, but a room had been reserved for 
me, which, I noticed with a smile, marked me out as a 
commoner of distinct eminence in his own walk of life. 
You can pretty well tell the estimate people form of you 
by the kind of room in which they put you to sleep. I 
was on the first fioor, and not among the gables. I looked 
out upon the la™, and had the house with all its contents 
been my own, I could not have desired better quarters. 

Ask any American what it is that his nation envies us 
most, and he will tell you at once that it is our country 
seats. Every New Yorker and Bostonian has his ville- 
giatura, but it is only in Virginia, as it was before the war, 
that you can find anything at all approaching to our En- 
ghsh country house. 


82 


JACK AKD THEEE JILLS. 


CHAPTER XV. 

The guests of Lord Wessex were much what might have 
been expected. There were from twenty to thirty men, 
and about as many ladies. There were neighboring peers 
and squires. There was the latest literary lion, and the 
latest explorer, who this time came from Paraguay. There 
was an amateur yachtsman and circumnavigator, a Royal 
Academician, and a secretary from the American Lega- 
tion, who, in addition to mixing cocktails and playing 
poker, was also a man of the stamp of Oliver Wendell 
Holmes — widely read, and himself an author of daily 
growing reputation. 

But among the company there happened also to be Mr. 
Vivian, and with him Izzie. JIi*- Vivian positively made 
for me, and wearied me with his grotesque effusion. He 
supposed I should be lord chancellor in the very next 
change of ministry, in fact, he had offered the lord 
lieutenant fifty to ten upon it, but his lordship had saga- 
ciously shaken his head and said nothing, which looked as if 
the matter were a certainty. He was glad to see the law 
had not made me musty, nor turned my hair gray. He 
hated mustiness as he did dissent and the devil. In short, 
the old gentleman played the part of Squire Western to 
perfection. 

With her father was Izzie, who had certainly developed, 
and in many respects improved, since I saw her last. She 
had now ripened into a. woman, with that indescribable 
bloom upon her, like the bloom on a bunch of grapes, 
which American ladies so envy their English sisters, and 
which no cosmetics can simulate. 

When we jomed the ladies after dinner it was clearly my 
duty to single her out, and, ff I may indulge in a confusion 
of metaphors worthy of the Irishman who said of his own 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


83 


speech that it kindled a flame which completely drowned 
the eloquence of his antagonist, I resolved to be bold, and 
to take the bull by the horns. 

The last time I saw you. Miss Vivian, was, I think, at 
the Lyceum. 

She blushed as red as any peony, and answered, ‘‘ Yes.^^ 
And I heard from you the next day. 

This time she bowed her head. 

I hope,^'’ I said, with that vague assumption of interest 
usually employed for stopping gaps in conversation with 
trifles, “ that you received the things I sent you safely 
Quite safely, thank you — all of them.-^^ 

The lady you saw me with was Mrs. Brabazon, of 
whom, I think, I have told you before. She was very kind 
to me, as kind as a mother could be, and when I was in 
immense diflficulty — money diflficulty — found it out and 
literally rescued me from ruin. I owe her everything in 
life — much more than my gratitude will ever be able to re- 
pay. But for her, my career would have been an utter 
failure. 

‘^She was very beautiful, certainly,’^ Tzzie answered, 
firmly; ‘‘ but, Mr. Severn, I did not like what I saw, and 
I think I told you so in my letter. 

“You did, with the most effective simplicity. It is 
some sort of pleasure to me now to be able to assure you 
that you were under a misapprehension. 

“ There was only one conclusion to come to that I could 
see,^^ she answered, defiantly, “ and you ought not to 
blame me for having arrived at it. And where is Mrs. 
Brabazon now?^^ 

“ That is more than I can tell you. Her solicitors 
always know her address, and if I wanted to write to her, I 
should do BO through them.. She hovers about from place 
to place. I know that she is now abroad; but whether it 
is at St. Petersburg or Saratoga, at Vienna or Honolulu, I 


84 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


can not tell you. I have heard notliing of her for some 
little time. 

I suppose you are great friends. 

‘‘ That is hardly -the word. She is one of the best of 
women in the world, and the simplest; and it is a privilege 
for a man to be allowed to know her. 

“ When/^ said an old sergeant-instructor to his recruits 
at bayonet drill, “ you have driven your weapon well in, 
give it a twist and a wriggle and pull it out with a wrench 
to make the wounds incurable. ” 

These were exactly the tactics that I was pursuing, and 
it was pretty clear that they were producing the calculated 
effect. 

After faltering for a few minutes, she said, very softly 
and quietly — 

I think, Mr. Severn, you miglit have told me all this 
at the time. 

“ I should certainly have done so, if you had given me 
the chance, but you see you executed me first, passed sen- 
tence afterward, and then, I suppose, proceeded to try tl^e 
case in your own way. I know that is the method usually 
adopted with poachers by county squires, but I did not ex- 
pect that their daughters adopted it in the most important 
matters of life. 

“ You are mocking me, Mr. Severn. 

“ I assure you most frankly that I am doing nothing of 
the kind. I am simply giving my own version of what has 
taken place. I have a clear right to do so, and it is a right 
I shall always exercise, both in this matter and in others, 
when I feel that there is any occasion for it. 

Then,^^ she said, Mr. Severn, I think we had better 
say no more about the matter. 

“ That is as you please, I retorted. 

She made the slightest possible inclination of her head 
and joined a group of ladies at the other end of the room. 
I, looking round, perceived a knot of men, principally of a 


JACK AND THEEE JILLS. 


8o 


sporting turn, engaged in active conversation. 1 strolled 
up to them and found, of course, that they were discussing 
partridges, poachers, battue shooting, Irish setters, and the 
advantages and disadvantages of driving. 

I did not care much about any of these things, being, 
although the son of a country squire, more or less a Gallic 
as to sporting discussions, in which no man ever convinces 
another, and hot argument often leads to hot temper. 
Being, however, appealed to as to the heinousness of poach- 
ing, I replied that, under the present system of preserving 
and tmuiing down, I could see practically no difference 
whatever between a pheasant and a bam-door fowl, and 
that I would punish the man who stole the one in precisely 
the same manner, and upon precisely the same principle, 
as I would punish the man who stole the other. 

This expression of opinion was not at all graciously re- 
ceived by one or two of the company, and the war of words 
broke out again with a vigor worthy of political controversy 
itseK.] 

It is a characteristic of lawyers that they hate to argue a 
point unless they are paid to do so, and that their dislike to 
argument increases in exact proportion to the depth of their 
convictions upon the matter, if they happen to have any. 
So I evaded discussion, and contented myself instead with 
a study of human nature. 

Later on the men adjourned to the smoking-room. The 
smoking-room at Wessex Hall was remarkably comfortable, 
and apt to tempt its occupants to late or rather to early 
hours. It was fitted very much like the smoking-room of 
a club, with leather arm-chairs, American rocking-chairs, 
marble-topped tables, and a sideboard contriving every re- 
quisite in the way of ice, claret, lemons, waters, both 
mineral and strong, a snuff box, and for those who might 
prefer such atrocities, a tobacco jar and clay pipes. Be- 
tween a really good cigar, and a cool church-warden,^' 
there is, hi my humble opinion, no via media , and this 


86 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


evening, in true Bohemian spirit, I selected a long ciaj', 
and mixed myself some whisky and water. 

Lord Wessex, our host, was at his best in the smoking- 
room, where his natural geniality overcame every other 
element in him, whether inlierited or acquired. He crossed 
the room and sat down by me. 

You must have thought me uncommonly rude, Mr. 
Severn, or uncommonly neglectful, but the house is so full 
that I hardly know where I am. I^m delighted to have so 
good and keen a sportsman as yourself among us. The 
country is dull, no doubt, but 1 dare say you ^11 find it a 
change from London. Change of air does us all good. I 
know for myself, who am always stuck in the ^ country, 
that a week in London seems to make a new man of me — 
shakes out the dust, I suppose, just as Londoners coming 
down here to us shakes out the soot and smoke. 

To this cheery broadside I made the most friendly re- 
sponses, and I think fairly won my host^s heart by compli- 
menting him upon a short-horned bull I had noticed, 
which, as it turned out, was a very celebrated prize winner, 
and had lately obtained a gold medal at the county show. 

He then kindly referred to a private bill, in which he 
had been personally interested to a very considerable ex- 
tent, and in the navigation of which through committee I 
had rendered its promoters no little assistance — assistance 
handsomely recognized but not the less valuable. 

It was through this bill, in fact, that I first made Lord 
Wessex’s acquaintance. He was a genial old gentleman, 
who looked sixty, but may have been older, with a ruddy, 
clean-shaved face, crisp curling locks, almost white; cheer- 
ful, hazel eye, and a clear, ringing voice — a typical English 
landed proprietor, with all the good qualities of his class, 
and, for all I know or care, all their prejudices as well. 

“ But I must introduce you to Lord Ashford,” he said. 
“ I don’t think he’s much of a lawyer, but he’s a brother 
barrister all the same. He got called to the Bar because 


JACK AND THKEE JILLS. 87 

he said a county magistrate ought at least to know as 
much law as the clerk of the peace. He has traveled up 
the Nile and shot giralfe and hippopotamus, and is as 
modest about it all as possible. He brought back several 
wagon-loads of horns and hides; but when they told him. 
he ought to write a book about his travels he laughed, and 
said that, if he told the truth, nobody would believe him, 
and that he really could not take the trouble to tell any- 
thing else. 

Lord Ashford impressed me very favorably. He was a 
typical Kentish giant, with an indolent manner, which I 
do not think was assumed, and beneath which evidently lay 
a considefable amount of determination and courage. 1 
asked him, of course, how he liked partridges and pheasant 
after big game. 

“ Very much indeed, he replied. “ Who was it — some- 
body that ought to know — who said that partridge shooting 
will remain our national sport long after every other form 
of sport, except perhaps angling, has died out. I\^e shot 
peacock and ostrich — both good birds in their way — but I 
still think that a chance kill right and left in a heavy 
turnip field is as good sport as any going. 

Although no traveler, I still am, and then was, an en- 
thusiastic reader of books of travel, which, in my opinion, 
are worth all the novels in the world, so that I was fairly 
able to keep up the conversation with him. But before 
long it veered round to other subjects, and ultimately we 
all began to gather into knots, previous to the final ad- 
journment for the night. 

I can offer you no sport myself, I said, with a laugh. 

There are sparrows near my chambers in the Temple, 
and I believe my ofiSce-boy practices at them with a blow- 
pipe, for I have detected him cooking them in a Dutch 
oven before the fire. We unhappy lawyers have little time 
for sport of any kind; and it is many years since yon could 


88 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


catch roach and dace among the reeds at the bottom of .the 
Temple Gardens. But I look forward to big game as just 
the possibility of the future, should I be able to give up 
work before my eyes dim, or my natural force abates.'’^ 
And with this Lord Ashford and I shook hands and parted 
for the night. 

1 threw my bedroom window wide open and sat at it for 
some time, looking out on the moonlighted lawn with its 
trim beds and its lawn-tennis ground and the tall elms at 
its foot. After all, what was my life to be like? It had 
been a success, no doubt; but what was it to be for me? 
For success in life by no means always secures happiness 
for the man who achieves it, any more • than dq^s wealth, 
which can purchase everything that is exchangeable, ena- 
ble you to purchase health, or to do many things you wish 
to do, and which are hopelessly beyond your reach. Would 
it not be better, after all, to work for just a few years 
longer until I had rounded off my little pile,^^ and then 
retire with no definite object beyond that of enjoying my- 
self in my own way? There would be the whole world be- 
fore me, and I could roam in it like Browning^s Waring — 
coming and going as I pleased; or should I hold on for the 
moral certainty and dull semi-drudgery of a judgeship, and 
apparel myself in imposing robes to decide knotty points 
of ‘‘ stoppage in transitu,^^'‘‘ bottomry bonds, “general 
average, and “ contributory negligence ?^^ 

And as I pondered drowsily over these things a little bat 
flitted in at the open window, and hovered noiselessly about 
the room till it settled on the window curtains, where it 
hung itself up by its legs with its head downward. “ I 
wonder, said I to myself, “if the tiny creature is a 
familiar spirit, bringing me good luck. Anyhow it shall 
not be left to the tender mercies of the house-maid. So 
I captured it gently in the bottom of my hand, and turned 
it out again into the night. And then, myself, turned in 
with a dreamy kind of notion that I was not, after all, 


JACK AND THKEE JILLS. 


89 


fairly justified in grumbling at the manner'in which fort- 
une up to now had treated me. 

The man who expects nothmg in this world is the hap- 
piest of all, for the very sufficient reason that he is never 
disappointed. I had never expected much myself. My 
good fortune, such as it was, had, as it were, grown. It 
would have been an affectation to pretend that it was en- 
tirely undeserved; but it would be untrue to say that I had 
won it by any extraordinary course of merit or self- 
denial. 

There is far more luck in this world than people imagine, 
and I had certainly had even more than my fair share of it. 

Then I found myself falling asleep. The hoot of an owl 
bird with regard to which I entertain no superstitions 
or prejudices— -roused me again for a moment, and I began 
to lay a plan for my next long vacation. I would secure 
Mrs. Brabazon, and charter a small steam yacht, and we 
would go cruising about the north-west coast of Scotland, 
shooting and fisliing, and generally doing nothing, and with 
no definite plan. 

The dolce far nientey when it has in it no tainting ele- 
ment of physical idleness, is distinctly the most delightful 
of all forms of humaD enjoyment. I have no patience 
with the men who go to Monte Carlo that they may sit all 
day under the palm-trees in the marble terraces, and play 
all the evening at tables. But healthy, wholesome idle- 
ness, such as that of the yachtsman or the explorer, is the 
nearest approach to that ideal of happiness wliich the Greek 
philosophers were always trying to accurately define, but 
could never present to us in an intelligible form. 

The sun woke me in the morning streaming in at the 
window. I dressed myself, was out of the house before the 
shutters were open, and had a magnificent plunge in the 
neighboring mill-pool. After which I repaired to the vil- 
lage hostel, the Wessex Arms, where I chatted awhile 
with the daughter of the house, and solaced myself with a 


90 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


tankard of ale before rejoining the family circle at th» 
formal breakfast. 

Looking back now^ I am perfectly conscious how much I 
owed at that time to my naturally fine physique, which I 
had never in any way abused, or even unduly strained. 
The man who can drink a pint of sound beer, and eat a 
good breakfast after it, can easily afiord to give weight, 
and good weight too, in the race of life to his less fortun- 
ate competitors. 


CHAPTEE XYI. 

Breakfast over, the company dispersed in genuine 
country-house fashion. The men, of course, were ofi. to 
the turnips and the stubble, the women scattered anyhow. 
I, pleading my letters, was allowed to withdraw to the soli- 
tude of the billiard-room. I had sufficiently distinguished 
myself as a sportsman, and mgratiated myself by fair 
shooting and want of jealousy, to be able to believe that 
the regrets expressed at my absence from the party were 
actually sincere. 

• In the solitude of the billiard-room I began to take stock 
of the situation. It was very foolish of me; I admitted as 
much to myself, but I was undoubtedly in love with Izzie 
again. I knew this time, or at all events I believed, that 
I could reckon upon at least the benevolent neutrality of 
her father; and as regarded that best and truest of friends, 
Mrs. Brabazon, I long since agreed with her original view of 
our relations, and was satisfied that our position had better 
remain that of sworn allies, offensive and defensive. 

Izzie was undoubtedly now at her best; not at the prime 
of her beauty but in the full, rich spring of it. The pear 
was ready to drop into my hand if I only tapped the 
bough. Besides, there was a distinct impulse of chivalry in 
the matter which I should have been a cur indeed if I had 
not felt, for Izzie herself had been willing to take me as I 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


91 


stood when I had neither position, money, nor friends, and 
it was almost a point of honor to appeal to her again now 
that everything was secured. And my future, full of hope 
as it was, I could practically afford to regard with philo- 
sophical indifference. 

The Lyceum difficulty was by no means insuperable. 
Evidently with a little tact it could he engineered, and, as 
I turned all, these considerations over, I came to the con- 
ctusion that I would again apply for Izzie^s hand, hut, in 
proper strategical fashion and orthodox, have an interview 
with her father first. 

So I decided to catch the old squire before ’breakfast the 
next morning, and with this virtuous resolution full upon 
me^I got through some work, dispatched my batch of let- 
ters, and then placidly waited for the dinner-bell. . 

I really forget whom it fell to my lot to take down to 
dinner, but I know it was not Izzie, who descended under 
the escort of Lord Ashford. She was evidently on the best 
of terms with him, and they were conversing through the 
whole of dinner, much after the fashion of a couple of love- 
birds. It was very wrong of me, of course, to feel malice 
toward Ashford, who had done me no harm, and was quite 
innocent of any intention of doing so. But I could hardly 
resist an uncharitable and malicious desire to pick a quar- 
rel with him, and a vague yearning, worthy only of a 
school-boy, to invite liim to take off his coat and have it out. 

I am perfectly aware that all these confessions tell very 
seriously against myself, but as I have before now observed, 
it is the very first duty of a historian, and much more of 
an autobiographer, to be strictly truthful. 

I^'ext morning I managed to secure my chance, and in- 
stead of seeing Mr. Vivian, found Izzie practically alone. 

I say alone, for he had only one companion, a lady of years 
of discretion, who had the good sense to invent some hope- 
lessly unanswerable excuse and to retire. The coast thus 
clear, for awhile at any rate, I opened fire at once; 


92 


JACK AI?.D THREE JILLS. 


Lord AsMord, Miss Vivian, seems at present the 
favored recipient of those smiles and confidences which I 
once used to consider my own, and that too upon your own 
authority, which I presume is the very best. 

She flushed red with anger. 

Lord Ashford, she retorted, bitterly, “ is more than 
a nobleman, Mr. Severn, he is a gentleman, and has never 
done anything to disgrace himself, or to forfeit the good 
opinion of anybody. 

‘‘ Very possible. I do not dispute it for a moment. I 
am not aware that I have ever done so myself. 

‘‘ And I am not aware, Mr. Severn, how you can be suf- 
ficiently mean to pursue this cowardly system of persecu- 
tion. I wish I had a brother, or any friend — she laid an 
emphasis on tliis word — whom I could trust to take^my 
part, or to call you to account, as you most richly deserve. 

I am wholly unaware that I have done or said anything 
unworthy of a gentleman. 

“ Then your success, as I suppose I must call it, at the 
Bar must have turned your head, or you must have altered 
strangely under thei nfluences of new friends and compan- 
ions. 

“ I think if you would only listen to me patiently for a 
few minutes — 

I could not listen paitiently to you for a minute,'’^ she 
interrupted, with a gleam of angry light in her eyes, and a 
fierce stamp of her little foot upon the gravel. I know 
all about you that you can tell me, and more than you 
would tell me. I have been careful to believe .no*thing that 
has not been sufficiently proved. Ask your own con- 
science, if you have any shreds of it left, and, if you have 
any sense of decency remaining, leave off persecuting me 
in this wicked way. You make my life unbearable. 

The monstrous injustice of all this fairly amazed me. I 
was, as I know, perfectly innocent of any persecution such 
as that laid to my charge, either in word, act, or even 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


93 


thought^ but what on earth was I to say? or, if I said any- 
thing, of what possible avail would it be? I could only re- 
peat very quietly, I think at least you might listen to me 
for a minute or two. ” 

And I have told you once for all that I decline to 
listen to you at all. Can you not take an answer? What 
a coward you are!^^ 

‘‘ Miss Vivian, no man has ever yet dared to call me a 
coward. 

‘^Possibly no man ever thought it worth his while. 
You are too utterly contemptible. Can you not believe 
me when I tell you again that I despise you altogether — • 
that the very sight of you is hateful to me? I am going. 
If you attempt to follow me, I shall appeal to the first man 
I see for help. And with these words she almost sprung 
to her feet, and walked rapidly away, availing herself of 
the very first turning in her path that hid her from my 
sight. 

To have followed her would have been worse than fool- 
ish, so I thrust my hands deeply into my pockets, and 
walked slowly back toward the house, not so much think- 
ing over the position which I could scarcely grasp, as mar- 
veling at it, and at the extraordinary, and if the phrase be 
permissible, dogged, perversity of the female mind. I re- 
member it occurring to me that an American would almost 
certainly have described Miss Vivian ^s conduct as amount- 
ing to ‘‘ downright cussedness, and laughing at the idea. 
But the laugh was more or less a forced one, and I was not 
sorry to find myself in the .solitude of my own room, where 
the open window admitted the fresh, cool breeze, and the 
murmur, as Tennyson has it, of tremulous aspen-trees, and 
poplars, with their noise of falling showers. 

“ I will think of nothing,^’’ I said to myself, “ or I shall 
go wild. So I took down a stray volume from the shelves 
— I think it was Nicholas Nickleby — and made a gal- 
lant effort at reading. The attempt proved fairly success- 

41 




94 


JACK AKD* THKEE JILLS. 


fill. It was early in the morning, but I felt strangely tired 
and wearied. After a little bit the lines of print began to 
get confused, and I gave up the effort to follow them. 
Then I took to studying the pattern of the wall paper, and 
converting it into geometrical figures and combinations. 
This was a pleasant and dreamy work. * After a little 
while, one particular piece of the pattern seemed to mes- 
merize me. I found myself staring at it vaguely, much 
like a mesmeric patient staring at the zinc disk in the palm 
of his hand, and then I became happily conscious that I 
was falling asleep. 

The room was so delightfully cool, and the whole atmos- 
phere and surroundings were so somnolent, that I slept 
oreamlessly on, until a servant came with my hot water in 
one hand, and on his other arm my neatly brushed and 
folded evening clothes. I woke with a start. It was half 
past six, and time to dress for dinner. I felt little inclina- 
tion to join the party. But I could not see my way to 
even a colorable excuse, so I languidly arrayed myself, and 
after a final and most refreshing ablution with eau-de- 
Cologne and water, made my way to the drawing-room. 

The lady allotted to me was a sufficiently iminteresting 
person, the wife of a neighboring squire, with voluminous 
views of her own as to rosemary tea and its virtues, the 
wickedness and danger of Dissent, the froward behavior of 
the lower orders, and the vast amount of evil that had 
been done by educating the masses above their position. 
It was a trying ordeal, but I had to go through with it. I 
was never more thankful than when our hostess left, and 
the wine began to circulate, while the conversation turned 
on politics and local matters. 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


95 


CHAPTER XVn. 

I WOKE next morning none the worse for Lord Wessex's 
claret, and tumbling out of bed made my way toward the 
window, which I threw wide open. 

I wonder why absurd people use the phrase springing 
out of bed?" In the first place no man can spring out of 
bed were he to try ever so. If you doubt my assertion, 
make the experiment. You will find it as effectual as an 
attempt to sit down in a basket, and then to lift yourself 
up, basket and all, by the two handles. 

It was a glorious September morning. The yellow and 
russet tints in the trees were only just beginning to show 
themselves. Nature was wide awake. The small birds 
were noisy in the trees. From a distant meadow I caught 
the strange grating note of the corn-crake. On the lawn 
blackbirds and thrushes were hopping about in busy quest 
of lazy worms that had been lying out on the grass all 
night, and had loitered too long before withdrawing to the 
security of their burrows. 

I still hold, and always shall, that the perfection of 
rural life is to be found in an English country house, and 
for choice in the ‘‘ sexes " and “ folks ” rather than in the 
shires, although Hampshire and Kent have no doubt 
claims of their own. 

After drinkhig in the glorious morning air I rang my 
bell, retreating again between the sheets, and in due course 
the appointed servant made his appearance with my boots, 
clothes, water for my bath, and letters, and a large tumbler 
of hot milk. The house prided itself upon its dairy, and it 
was one of the institutions of the establishment that a pint 
or so of fresh milk should be brought first thing each 
morning to the chamber of each guest. 

I drank the milk and then I tm’ned to the letters. With 


96 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


one exception, they were wholly imimportant. But the 
one letter in question so distinctly interested me, that, be- 
fore I even commenced my toilet, I read it througli three 
or four times as carefully as if it had been a case to advise, 
marked with a heavy fee, and an extra fee for expedition. 

The envelope contained two letters. The first and the 
shorter was from Izzie herself. 

“ Mr. Severk, — On consideration, I think it only right 
that I should send you this letter, which, as you see, is not 
anonymous. When you have read it, you may, if you 
choose, return it to me under cover to my father; but 
please do not attempt to write to me, as I shall send back 
any letter of yours unread. 

“ Isabella Vivian.^'’ 

I did not know the handwriting of the second letter, 
which was voluminous, so I looked at the signature, and 
thus gathered that it came from that most venomous of 
spinsters. Miss M ^Lachlan. 

It was a long rigmarole about myself and Mrs. Brabazon, 
in which truth and falsehood were blended with such dia- 
bolical cunning, tliat even I, accustomed to the shiftiest of 
witnesses and the shadiest of tales, marveled at the old 
hag^s ingenuity. 

Her story was, that while I had been an inmate of the 
select establishment of Mrs. Jessett, my conduct and that 
of Mrs^r Brabazon, had been so outrageous, flagrant, and 
shameless, that the worthy old dame had been compelled 
one evening to turn us both at a minute^s notice out of. the 
doors. Everybody in the house had known that I was in 
debt, and everybody knew also that Mrs. Brabazon had 
paid my debts and made me an allowance, and that, in 
fact, I had occupied the position of her amant de cmir. 

How the miserable liaison had ended. Miss M^’Lachlan 
had not taken the trouble to inquire. She had no doubt it 
was still going on, as we had always seemed to glory in our 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


97 


infamy^, and to be disposed to defy the opinion, not of de- 
cent people merely, but of the world at large. For her 
own part, she had been strictly brought up, and when she 
saw sin — she might say flagrant sin — she felt it a sacred 
duty not to spare the sinner. Her only prayer was, that 
these words of warning might not arrive too late, and that 
my soul through tribulation and penitence might yet per- 
haps be plucked as a brand from the burning. 

How the information had reached the vicious old woman, 
that Izzie and I might possibly renew our early vows, the 
letter discreetly omitted to state; but there was, as usual 
in the letters of women, a peculiarly venomous postscript, 
assuring Izzie that while at Bayswater I had, to the dis- 
gust of the other inmates of Mrs. Je^ett^s estabhshment, 
committed the unpardonable sin of Monaldeschi against 
Christina of Sweden, and had ridiculed, and worse than 
ridiculed her (Izzie) to Mrs. Brabazon pubhcly, and in the 
hearing of everybody. 

As Miss Viviaif had not insisted that the letter was to be 
returned, I sealed it carefully up and deposited it securely 
in my dispatch-box. “ Susan shall see it before I return 
it, at any rate,^^ I said to myself. And with tliis deter- 
mination in my mind, I dismissed the whole matter from 
my thoughts, and sallied serenely down to breakfast. Be- 
fore going down, however, I carefully packed up my 
things, and made every preparation for my departure. 

^ * * % * ^ 

I was early in the dining-room, but 1 found my hostess 
there, and it was easy enough to plead .a sudden recall to 
the T'emple on my old standing excuse — the great Scotch 
Salmon Fisheries Case. Then 1 took a seat near the door, 
and waited till Izzie came in. She seated herself as far as 
possible from me, hurried through her meal, and then, 
trusting, I suppose, that I should not speak to her, rose 
and made a move toward the door, 

4 


98 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


There may have been about half a dozen persons in the 
room, without reckoning the servants. I did not trouble 
to count the heads. When she saw that I was in her path, 
she sto23ped and drew herself up to her full height, looking 
defiantly at me. I, for my part, said the few words I had 
to say in a clear, dull monotone, as distinct as that of a 
young High Church curate telling us how ‘‘ the Scripture 
moveth us in sundry places. 

“ Miss Vivian,'’^ I said, ‘‘ the letter which you have in- 
closed to me is from beginning to end a tissue of lies. The 
woman who wrote it is as vulgar and illiterate as she is 
malicious. You must surely have noticed that she can not 
even spell correctly. I shall keep the letter a little longer, 
as, unless I change my present intention, I -shall prosecute 
her, and have her punished for writing and sending it. 
That, I think, is a duty I owe to the lady whom this Miss 
M ^Lachlan has so foully traduced. Otherwise,*! should 
take no notice of the matter. ” 

Then I stepped on one side, and Izzie hurried by me with 
her face scarlet. I waited a couple of minutes to give her 
fair and reasonable law, and then made my way off myself. 

In less than an horn* I was on my road to London, un- 
able to shut my eyes to the comic side of what had hajD- 
pened, but distinctly determined to punish Miss M^Lachlan 
if I possibly could, and to punish her effectually. For, as 
Macchiavelli says in his Principe, it is worse than idle 
to scotch a snake. If the business has to ‘be done, put 
your heel upon the venomous creature^s head, and grind it 
into slime. These are not liis exact words, but they suffi- 
ciently convey my meaning. 

Arrived in London, I inspected the letters and circulars 
which had accumulated during my absence. As I had be- 
come a methodical man, there was nothing of any impor- 
tance, or in any way calculated to startle me or even quicken 
my pulse. But there was a short letter from Susan Braba- 
zon, as indeed the liandwriting told me at once. It was 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


99 


characteristically like her, and so brief that I can aSord to 
reproduce it. 

‘‘ Write me as fully as time permits with news of your- 
self. It makes- me feel younger to hear that you are flour- 
ishing. I have nothing to trouble or annoy me, and often 
wish I could have you with me again for an hour or so. 
To have you with me always would be pleasant enough for 
me, but utter ruin for you. A letter will And me at the 
Poste Eestante, Venice, for which quaint city I am just 
stai’ting. I have had such a thing in my life as a donkey 
ride at Scarborough, and I am curious to try one on the 
Lido. Besides, I may perhaps meet the Wandering Jew, 
who, as you know, makes Venice his head-quarters. Adio, 
my dear boy. When the courts are sitting, I always study 
the law reports in the ‘ Times;’ and only the other day I 
sat next a large Leghorn ship-owner at taNe dHidte, who 
knew you perfectly well, although he had never seen you. 
He had been interested in some case of running-down at 
sea, which he said you had managed admirably, and he 
compared you to Grotius, and a great number of other 
gentlemen of whom I have never heard. I consequently 
begin to see that you must be making your way, although 
England is, of all countries, the one that is the most diffl- 
cult for a young man. 

‘‘ Yours ever, 

Susan Brabazon. ” 

This deal letter, like the writer in every line of it, I an- 
swered at considerable length — ^writing fully, freely, care- 
lessly and truthfully. And in the course of my epistle, I 
mentioned the M’Lachlan episode, and inclosed Miss 
M’Lachlan’s own letter. 

I do not know precisely in what the charm consisted, 
but Susan Brabazon was a woman to whom it was a posi- 
tive pleasure even to write, just as it is pleasant to wake 
up at night and listen to the murmur of the sea, although 


100 


JACK AND THREE JILlA 


you can not see it, and it may be miles away. I did up 
my letter with special care in a stout linen envelope, sealed 
it with ostentatious profusion of wax, registered it and 
posted it, and then turned my mind once again to business 
matters, and more especially to the deeply interesting case 
of Wilkins, Stubbles, and Others against the London and 
North-Western Eailway Company — a case of which it was 
very difficult to get at the rights, as both parties were ob- 
stinately in the wrong, and had already wasted in litigation 
about twenty times the value of the wretched quarter of an 
acre of land that was the causa teterrima helU. 

There was still a good month left of the long vacation, 
so I thrust the voluminous documents m re Wilkms, Stub- 
bles, and Others into my portmanteau, and ran down to 
Essex. 

I found my father, as I might have expected, older than 
I had last seen him, and with marked symptoms of shaki- 
ness; but he was pleased to see me, and it was some sort of 
a pleasure to talk over his affairs with him, and to put him 
straight — for, of com’se, he was overdrawn again at the 
county bank. 

Then, too, there were my sisters, who were mifeignedly 
glad to see me, and not at all averse to a few stray bank- 
notes secretly and judiciously planted. For my mother I 
had brought down some special presents — a cashmere 
shawl, some tea given me by an attache at the Russian 
Embassy, and one or two other such trifles. Trifles they 
seemed to me, but marvels to the dear old lady. 

I was thus a welcome guest, and as I gave no trouble, 
and was content to roam about with my walking-stick, or 
•my gun, and do nothing, I have no doubt they were all 
fully as glad to have me with them as they professed them- 
selves to be. 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


101 


OHAPTEE XVIII. 

I MIGHT have stopped longer in Essex had I not received 
a letter from an eminent firm of solicitors and parlia- 
mentary agents in Victoria Street, Westminster, informing 
me that Sir Joseph Chivery, forty years member for the 
ancient, loyal and thoroughly whatever - way - you - may - 
please-in-politics constituency of Pullborough, had fallen 
dead on his he^-rug in an apoplectic fit, after a more 
than usually hearty breakfast of Scotch haddock and 
deviled kidneys. Pullborough wanted a member whose 
political views, whatever they might be, were identical in 
every respect with its own, and it was perfectly ready to be 
convinced at a day^s notice, and subject to satisfactory 
references, that I was the very man of whom it had always 
been in quest as its ideal representative. 

When matters are put plainly and straightforwardly like 
this, business is amazingly simplified. I ran down to Pull- 
borough, saw the local magnates, who did me the honor of 
dining with me at the principal hotel — the Goat and 
Bagpipes — and so conciliated their good graces, that a 
few weeks later I found myself returned member for Pull- 
borough without opposition, and charged with the responsi- 
ble duty of representing and protecting in Parliament the 
interest of that upright and patriotic constituency. 

The whole thing did not cost four hundred pounds, and I .. 
have always thought that it was cheap at the money. 

Then I had to hurry back to town, where there was 
plenty for me to do, as' term had begun, and my table in 
the inner room was covered with papers. My hack, had 
been out at grass, and was back freshly clipped and shod 
and the picture of health; and it was a pleasure to dine 
once again at my club off the joint and a pmt of claret, 
and to smoke a quiet cigar afterward over the usual shilling 


102 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


pool with sixpenny lines. What a singular delusion it is 
that clubs are nests of extravagance and self-indulgence. 

My terminal work was of a usual kind — ponderous^ dull 
and lucrative. There were the Conservators of the Slush 
Estuary against the Slush and Puddlecombe Local Board, 
with the free fishermen of Puddlecombe and its Liberties 
intervening. There were oyster beds concerned in this 
case, and the fees were proportionately luscious. There 
was the Slopshire Main Drainage Board against the Mayor 
and Corporation of Slopperton and Sludgeborough; and 
there was the ‘‘ Queen of the West against the Bessie 
Belford,-’^ with the “ Polly Jane intervening for salvage, 
which had fought its way right up from the local Admiralty 
Court at Liverpool. 

It is difficult to give any idea how interesting a heavy 
case is, and how delightful it is to find yourself rising above 
the level of Bardell and Pickwick, and freed from inter- 
pleader for the higher mysteries of Stoppage in Transitu. 

Most of my work was now A B C to me, as I knew my 
law reports up to date, and kept myself as current with 
them as does a surgeon in any practice with his hospital 
reports, and his weekly ‘‘ Lancet. ^ I consequently 
welcomed the work with pleasure, and set myself down to 
the mass of papers with a voracity that gladdened the soul 
of my senior clerk, a stout gentleman, with a clean-shaved 
face, a heavy gold watch-chain, a repeater, and an elabo- 
rately chased snuff-box. 

I thus had my day fully taken up, but I made it a sacred 
rule from which nothing short of a consultation with the 
Treasury solicitors would make me deviate, that I did no 
work after seven, or at any rate only such work as I could 
do in my easy-chair, and as involved no tedious and 
troublesome interviews. I was consequently enabled to 
dine out as often as I pleased, and I must confess that I 
had now developed a weakness for dining out. A dinner 
in a really well-appointed house is almost always better than 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


103 


the very best that can_be set before you at the most expen- 
sive hotel; and however brilliant the display of plate, and 
however gorgeous the liveries of the lackeys, there is yet a 
distinct air of home about the whole tiling, bringing it 
pleasantly near to reality. 

Among my earliest invitations after my return to town, 
was one from the American Legation, to which, of com’se, 

I returned an acquiescent answer; and it was thus that I 
met and had to take down to dinner Miss Elizabeth Maria 
Jemima Eock, daughter of Cyrus Napoleon Washington Q. 
Eock of Eockburg, U. S. 

Mr. Cyrus .Napoleon Washington Q. Eock had struck 
oil,^^ and his operations were now pumping it up at the rate 
of Heaven knows how many hundred of hogsheads a day. 
He did a ready-money business in the precious product of 
the earth, complacently realizing his little pile every week, 
and banking with the Lafittes in Paris and the Bank of 
England in London. 

What he was worth no one exactly knew. It was doubt- 
ful whether he knew himself; for the oil kept squirting up 
like a geyser, and his only outlay was for cooperage and 
transport, or rather for cooperage only, leaving transport 
and freight to be paid by his assignees. 

He was not at all a vulgar man, or of a shoddy type, or 
possessed of an idea that (&e world revolves on its axis 
^subject always to the constitution of the United States. \ 
He was a shrewd, hard-headed man, of much the same type 
as Brassey and Stephenson, and he had taught himself 
many things. He was a very good judge of pictures and 
of china, and bought both largely. 

He did not race or hunt, but no Yorkshireman could 
have got the better bf him in a bargain over a pair of car- 
riage horses or a high-stepping cob. He lived at hotels be- 
cause, as he frankly said, he hated the worry of an estab- 
lishment of his own; and he drove four-in-hand with all 
the skill of a past-master in the art. 


104 


JACK AKD THKEE JILLS. 


I drove the mail in Kentucky when I was a lad/-’ he 
used to remark. Bad roads, one bolter, two jibbers, and a 
kicker. That was my average team. I guess that gives 
you practice. In those days I always had to carry a small 
store of traces and lashes and running gear in my boot, and 
so many bars slung up behind that the back of the coach 
looked like a butcher^s shop on strike. Yes, sir, you bet 
I^’ve learned to drive. Go your bottom dollar on that 
speculation. And now let^s have a cool cocktail and a 
little shilling poker. 

Miss Eock, as I could soon find out, was one of the best 
types of American girls. She had read everything — Shake- 
speare, Herbert Spencer, Zola, Goethe, Prescott, and De 
Tocqueville, of course, and was au courant with all the 
light surge of modern literature. She had views of her 
own about Italian opera; the higher education of women; 
the Canadian fisheries question; the descent of man from 
the gorilla; the claims of the Vatican, and the latest novelty 
in double stars. 

And yet she was not garrulous nor even tiresome in the 
least degree, for, under all her chatter — if it deserved the 
name— ran a rich vein of shrewd hiunan and genial com- 
mon sense, combined with what you very seldom find in a 
girl of her age, tolerably accurate information as to facts. 

I can hardly describe her to do her justice. She was 
dressed expensively, and not at all extravagantly, her only 
ornament being of plain gold. I think she wore what 
ladies call white tulle, picked out with branches of natural 
gloire de Dijon and stephanotis, but I will not pledge my 
memory to such particulars. 

Her figure and features had not that excessive delicacy, 
amounting almost to fragility, so common among her coun- 
try women. On the contrary, she was bright and healthy, 
without being in any way aggressively robust. Nor was 
there the least tinge of even Bostonese in her accent — that 
tinge which made Holmes remark hi despair that every- 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


105 


body in Paris speaks English, except, of course, the 
wealthier Americans. 

We talked at first upon every conceivable subject. Then 
she settled down upon England, and I had to run a gant- 
let of questions. 

“ I have read my Murray, of' course, Mr. Severn, and 
my Baedecker, and papa has ordered in piles of photo- 
graphs and guide books, but ITl tell you what I want to 
see. 

“ What is that?^^ I asked in curiosity. 

‘‘ Well, I\e seen the Tower, of com’se, and Windsor Cas- 
tle, and Westminster Abbey, and St. PauPs and the Docks, 
and the British Museum. But I want some one to find 
me a guide who will take me over London, and show me 
the old places in Dickens — the ' old curiosity shop, and Mr. 
Pickwick^s lodgings in Goswell Street, and Newgate Prison, 
and the opium den in Eatcliffe Highway, and Saffron Hill, 
where Fagin had his thieves^ lodging-house and academy. 
I suppose you have guides to do all that kind of thing 

I had to explain to her astonishment that London is ab- 
solutely destitute of professional guides. 

‘‘ Oh, never mmd. We must advertise for one in the 
‘ Times. ^ I dare say heTl turn up. And then papa 
always lets me have my own way, Jlnd so weTe going to 
Warwick, and Kenilworth, and Tintern, and Harlech, and 
Furness, and Abbotsford, and, of course, to Killiecrankie. 
I guess Killiecrankie isn'^t up to Niagara any more than 
Windermere to Erie, or Snowdon to the Eockies, but I mean 
to do my England off the reel, and make a square job of it 
before I recross the old herring pond. 

It was impossible to resist her intense flood of high 
spirits. I agreed with her that she had got a large busi- 
ness on hand, but opined that with resolution it could 
be put through, and the contract completed in a shorter 
time than might have been expected. 

Well, now, you^re comforting. I met a young man 


106 JACK AND THREE JILLS. 

last evening who parted liis hair down the middle, and 
talked about culture and all that kind of show. What do 
you think he said? Guess now! ‘ Miss Eock/ said he — 
and pulled a face as long as a stump orator orating to three 
niggers, a washer-woman on strike, and a bubbly-jock — 
‘ Miss Eock, you must live in England for years. Its 
beauties and its treasures must grow into your existence 
and become a part of you. They are to be approached 
reverently and tenderly, not to be rushed past by almost 
sacrilegious feet. They are hallowed with traditions that 
come down to us through the mist of ages, like the voice 
of the Pythia chanting fi'om her tripod through the fumes 
of the Delphic cavern. 

“ And what did you say?^'’ I inquired. 

Well, I felt sort of irritated at being preached to, so I 
*just said, ‘ Oh, Jerusalem! Snakes and snapping turtles!' " 

Our eyes meet with a full flood of mischievous merri- 
ment, and we burst out laughing heartily. 

‘‘ But look here now. It's time for us ladies to be get- 
ting. I suppose I shall see you after your wine. In the 
States the ladies stop. We exercise a sort of holy influ- 
ence, and keep the men's minds away from trotting 
matches, and time bargains, and ward politics. That's 
our mission, that is, and we put it through as straight as 
need be. " 

Over the few glasses of claret and the coffee that fol- 
lowed I found myself very little occupied with the general 
conversation, and more interested in listening to Mr. Eock, 
who, after the fashion of his nation, launched out at some 
length upon things in general. 

He was a Federalist, with no personal bitterness against 
the South, and spoke with reverence of Lee and Jackson, 
more especially of “old Stonewall," whose dogged cour- 
age had evidently won his heart. With him, somehow, I 
made favorable progress, and so won his heart that he 
asked me to dine with him the day after next at the Hotel 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


107 


Continental, where he was at present located, and to meet 
one or two American friends, principally city men in large 
American houses, but, as he emphatically remarked. 

Sterling.'’^ 

Then we went upstairs, and I very shortly took my de- 
parture; but before I went I ascertained from Miss Rock 
that she was willing to wait |or three weeks until the courts 
rose, and to then allow me to act as a cicerone to herself 
and her father through those parts of London, at any rate, 
which she was anxious to see. And next afternoon I pro- 
cured editions of Dickens and Thackeray, wliich I marked 
and dog^s-eared at the appropriate places, and so sent them 
around to her with another treasure which I had long seen 
at Quaritch^s — a large folio full of old plates and engrav- 
ings, collected from every quarter and pasted down scrap- 
book fashion, with the text of Peter Cunningham dexter- 
ously fitted in as a running commentary. 

And then came the Conservators of the Dee, and the 
Plumstead Local Board, and the Mersey Dock Extension, 
and the humble appeal of Rumtijee Oursitjee Chunderlal 
against the judgment of the Supreme Court of Calcutta, in 
favor of his highness the Rajah of Runderpore and others 
— a tough case, of which even the litigants themselves did 
not profess to understand the rights, but over wliich they 
had sworn by all the shrines of Benares to fight the matter 
out before the great Empress of the East herself, down to 
the last rupee in their respective cumberbunds. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

My consignment of books having been duly dispatched 
to the Continental, I made my appearance then at the ap- 
pointed time. The company was mixed, but good. There 
was a racing peer with a name absolutely above suspicion 
on the turf, and with a penchant for trotting horses, and a 
Scotch peer who was shortly on his way to see what could 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


108 

be done in the shape of sport on the slopes of the AUe- 
ghanies and the Eockies. There was a yachtsman, owner 
of a schooner well known in the Mediterranean, and en- 
thusiastic on the vexed questions of center-boards and 
measurement-tonnage. There was one of our best known 
journalists and best of all raconteurs, who is perhaps even 
more popular in the States than in London itself. There 
were some city men — shrewd, intelligent speculators in 
stocks, timber, cotton, tinned provisions, and steel rails. 

Some of these brought their wives, some their daughters. 
We made about forty, all told, but although the party was 
large it was most harmonious, and, as far as possible, 
miited. 

The lady allotted to my share was the wife of a gentle- 
man who had done a good stroke of business by making 
‘‘ a corner in pickled pork at Chicago, and had now 
retired upon his pile.^^^ Three years before he had ruined 
himself, and the bulk of his friends, by an attempt to en- 
gineer a corner in molasses; but when th§. pork turned up 
a straight hand,^^ he had paid all his old creditors a hun- 
dred red cents on each dollar, which, as his wife told me, was 
more than any of them ever expected, or, for the matter 
iof that, deserved. 

“ But Hiram's got his 2Dile now, I calculate," continued 
the worthy lady, with pardonable pride, “ and I reckon 
he's learned enough by this time to sit as steady on it as an 
old rooster. Money's a good egg, Mr. Severn, sir, and 
it's my fixed idea that it ought to be laid in a warm 
nest." 

I expressed my entire concurrence in these most practical 
sentiments, and she then insisted on my telling her all I 
knew about the private habits and mode of life of the royal 
family, and of one or two of our principal dukes and mar- 
quises. 

It was impossible to classify her as a bore — she was so 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


109 


entirely natural and vivacious, with not a taint in her end- 
less chatter of her own personality. 

Before leaving I managed to hunt out Miss Rock again, 
and under the excuse of piloting her through the diffi- 
culties of procuring a final Neapolitan ice, with its 
essential adjuncts of wafer and still champagne, had an- 
other opportunity, of wliich I carefully availed myself to, ' 
at all events, form the materials for thoroughly making 
up my mind about her. 

Then I returned to Chapel* Street, and before turning in, 
considered matters on my sofa, with the aid of seven feet 
of cherry stem, without a flaw, and a huge lump of ana- 
tolia clay of the purest quality, the gift of some Greek mer- 
chants in the city, in whose matters I was standing counsel. 

Tobacco, when it is good, mild and cool, aids reflection 
most essentially. The normal pulse of a man in the prime 
of life should beat from seventy to seventy-five times in 
the minute. So at least physicians tell us. Many great 
men have had pulses abnormally slow. Napoleon ^s heart 
hardly beat faster than that of a reptile. Shelley^s pulse, 
if he were only betrayed into conversation, would at once 
mount to ninety. His blood was always dashing itself in 
angry surges against the walls of his heart. Those whom 
the gods love die young. He would have died of heart 
disease if the sea, which he so loved, had not claimed him 
for her own. 

I, not being a Shelley, was able to enjoy my pipe com- 
placently, and to watch with interest the ring of smoke 
edging up from the bowl to the ceiling, and I was also able 
to think things over. Should I offer my hand to Miss 
Rock? I need have no false shame in doing so. I could 
stipulate that every dollar of her fortune should be uncon- 
ditionally settled on herself, with full power to her to deal 
with it as she might please, and without even a nominal 
sum to be settled on me. 

I should insist on these terms in any case, as they would 


110 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


put my motives, absolutely above suspicion. And then, 
too, I could very well afford to make them. I had quite 
enough money of my own securely invested upon which to 
retire to my Tusculan villa, or my Sabine farm, at any 
moment that I might please. Four hundred a year — to 
take a low estimate of my financial position, were I to leave 
off practice at once, and to live on the interest of my capi- 
tal saved — is not a fortune, of course. 

^ But what is more than a pound a day is a sufficient 
' competence for any man, unless he wish to live at Vienna, 
or to have an entresol in the Avenue de FOpera. Besides, 
I had no intention of retiring, being hardly yet in the sum- 
mer of life, and as fond of my work for its own sake as if 
it were salmon fishing or deer stalking. 

So I decided to begin by tackling old Eock in person, 
without any waste of time.' For Americans have a fancy 
; for titles, as they have for bric-d-brac, and London has 
; only too many impecunious peers only too anxious to pick 
; up what it pleases them, in their impertinence, to call a 
-shoddy nugget. 

So i invited Mr. Eock to dine with me at Wliite’s, to 
which club I now belonged, and when, as it happened, a 
certain very distinguished royal personage was dining that 
evening with one or two other distinguished royal person- 
ages, and a sprinkhng of serenes, at a table next but one to 
our own. 

This pleased Mr. Eock immensely. ‘‘It is incorrect, 
sir,'’^ he said, “ to say that you English are exclusive, sir — 
it is not so. Sir, here am I, Cyrus Napoleon Washington 
Q. Eock, of Eockburg, U. S. , dining in his own club with 
the heir-apparent to the throne of the Plantagenets, and 
the Tudors and the Stuarts at the next table but one. Sir, 
it does me proud, and I thank you, for 'myself and my 
country, for your hospitality and for this occasion. I 
shall wire it, sir, to Eockburg, and they will make an 
editorial of it there in the ‘ Daily Balletin.-^ 


JACK AKD THBEE JILLS. 


Ill 


I expressed my satisfaction at Mr. Rock^s delight, and 
j then began cantiously to feel my way toward the business 
of the evening. This we did not reach until we were 
almost the only occupants of the smoking-room, when the 
waiter had fixed a mint julep completely to Mr. Rock^s 
approval, and vastly to his own. Then with what diplo- 
macy I could, and with commendable brevity, I opened 
my case to him, carefully dwelling on the point that 
money was no object whatever to me, and that if it were 
made a condition I should not object to giving up my 
profession and becoming a naturahzed citizen of the 
United States, although it had always been my ambition to 
wear the English ermine, if only for a term, and that prize 
was now practically within my reach. 

Mr. Rock closed his eyes for a minute or two, and, I pre- 
sume, meditated. Then he opened them and took a square 
look at me. Then he opened his mouth and began what 
he had to say in the most unembarrassed manner possible, 
but with the broad accent peculiar to him when he meant 
what he was saying. 

Well, Mr. Severn, you are a smart young man, and as 
handy, and you come of a family as good as most peerages, 
and you^ve chumped your sawdust without butter or 
molasses, and youVe made yourself what you are. I can 
respect you for that. I^m a self-made man myself. My 
^ neighbors tell me it relieves the Almighty of a very great 
^-responsibility. Perhaps it may, although it isnT for me to 
perch on the top of my own pile and crow to the parish. 
But I hke you, Mr. Severn. There must have been grit 
in you all along, and there^s plenty of it now. I donT 
want a good marriage for my gejlj, though no doubt you are 
well enough off. What I want to find for her is a man 
who T1 behave fair and square and honorable to her, and 
I’m inclined to think that those are your views and youi’ 
sentiments. And, so far, the coast is clear. Now, hev you, 
or hev you not been making signals to her in ‘the offing?” 


112 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


I was enabled to assure Mr. Rock, with a most perfect 
sincerity, that intentionally, at any rate, I stood entirely 
guiltless of any such piratical practices. 

“Wal, squire, rejoined Mr. Rock, “then Fll speak to 
my gell about this biz to-morrow morning, and if she says 
‘ Yes,^ Cyrus Napoleon Washington Q. Rock will be the 
last man under the star and stripes to shove in his oar and 
say ‘ No. On that deal you hev my fist. I guess from 
what I\e seen with my eyes half open, that my gell will 
say ^ Yes. ^ She alius did like you Britishers. But go bail 
for her, I can^t. And it^s too much to expect of any par- 
ent in these onnatral days. 1^11 let you be posted up, 
squire, in due course; and now, if I may trespass on your 
hospitality, I should like that smart young waiter to fix me 
just another julep. 

So the julep was “ fixed ’’ and solemnly consumed, and 
Mr. Cyrus Napoleon Washington Q. Rock and I took leave 
of each other in the portals of Whitens on the most friendly 
terms. 


CHAPTER XX. 

Next afternoon I received a brief communication from 
Mr. Rock. 

“ Dear Sir, — I inclose a letter from my daughter. 

“ Yours truly, 

“ Cyrus Napoleon Washington Q. Rock.-’^ 

The letter from Miss Rock was equally characteristic. 

“ Dear Mr. Severn, — I shall be in to-day after five, as 
papa is going to dine with one or two city men, with whom 
he is running a httle plant, which he says will turn out a 
straight flush. C^ in if you will at the Continental any 
time after five, and I should very much enjoy it, if you 
would take me to some show. 

“ Yours sincerely, 

“ Elizabeth M. J. Rock.^^ 


JACK AND THKEE JILLS. 


113 


To this I sent a trusty messenger with an answer, and 
made my appearance at Mr. Rock^s hote^ at the time ap- 
pointed. Miss Rock received me with a most cordial 
shake of the hand, not at all masculine, but as simple and 
unaffected as the ring of her voice — the slight iWerican 
intonation in which was just sufficiently perceptible be 
piquant. 

“Well, Mr. Severn, she said, “ my father^s given me 
carte UancTie in this deal, and I think I know how I^m 
going to play it. But it-’s going for the bank, you know, 
and it wants con-sideration. I havenT quite clearly fixed 
my mind up, and it^s no good pretendingc I have; but !• 
sha’nT keep you waiting off and on longer than is really 
fair and reasonable. A fortnight deferred isnT much of a 
couple of valuable lives, and I^m not the girl to make up 
my mind on such a matter in less than a fortnight. 

“A most reasonable time allowance,^’’ I answered, with 
my best smile, and a bow which would have been wasted 
on a lord chancellor on the woolsack. 

“ Well, I donT say it is, and I donT say it isnT, but it^s 
what I want, and, now as you are here to-night, and I 
mean if you spare the time to skip around a bit, suppose 
you take me somewhere. 

“What will Mr. Rock say?^^ I gently urged. “Of 
course I shall be perfectly delighted. 

“ Say? What shoidd he say? Why! very much obliged 
to you for your attention and kindness to an ignorant 
young Yank hke me. 

“ Would Mr. Rock mind my taking you out to dinner ?^^ 

“ Not, a cent; and I wouldn^t mind coming. But, sup- 
pose you dine here, and let^s skip round to the play after- 
ward. You can send a messenger for your clothes, and 
wefil do the thing like citizens with a stake in our respect- 
ive countries. 

I, of course, said I was only too charmed, and sent a 
messenger at once for my evening apparel. Bemg Miss 


114 


JACK AKP THEEE JILLS. 


Rock^s guest, I had natilrally to accej)t her place of enter- 
tainment and her bill of fare. Both were excellent. With 
genuine American tact, she chose the public coffee-room. 
The bill of fare displayed, as I knew, a full acquaintance 
with Saratoga; for it included hot boiled lobster — a dish 
practically unknown in England — and also baked oysters. 
I concluded that the superintendence of Mr. Rock’s ban- 
quets at Delmonico’s and elsewhere had been one of the 
pleasant and daughterly methods by which Miss Rock had 
lightened his labors. Apart altogether from the fact that 
I already entertained toward her feelings wholly distinct 
from those of friendship, her versatility and general savoir- 
faire impressed me wonderfully. 

To the Criterion we ultimately repaired. The piece was 
of the ordinary Criterion, or, to be perhaps more exact. 
Palais Royal, type. It was, if I remember rightly, ‘‘ The 
Wife with two Mothers-in-Law,” or something of the sort. 
Of course, all the pecidiarly Parisian humor of the French 
original had of necessity been strictly excised, but there 
was sufficient movement to atone for want of genuine in- 
cident, and sufficient sprightliness of dialogue to enable the 
actors to dispense with gag. 

Honestly, I can declare that I enjoyed myself, and I am 
sure that my companion was equally pleased, for ghe was 
entirely silent and attentive beyond laughter during the 
progress of the piece itself, and vigorously earnest about its 
merits during the intervals between the acts. 

When we returned to the hotel, we found that Mr. Rock 
had not yet arrived, having, as the hall porter informed 
us, gone out to see the conclusion of a big billiard match, 
in which he was much interested; so, at her request, I 
went upstairs with his daughter to await his arrival. 

“Papa won’t be long,.” said Miss Rock. “ Wait and 
see hini; it will please the old man. He’s as regular as a 
rooster, and won’t keep us beyond the proprieties.” 

“Regular as a rooster.” Mr. Rock arrived within 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


115 


rather less than five minutes. He nodded to his daughlbr 
and shook hands with me. 

Wal, squire, I suppose you\e been taking my gell 
round. Gells give a power of trouble; I know her dear 
mother did, and I know she takes after her mother. It^s 
kind of you to interest yourself in this way, and I take it 
as a compliment — not to my dollars, sir, but to an Ameri- 
can citizen. 

“Always talking about your dollars, papa, interrupt- 
ed Miss Eock.^^ 

“ Wal!^^ retorted her parent, jerking the bell vigorous- 
ly, “ what else have I got to talk about? Not you, any- 
how, though youh-e as dootiful a gell as need be. I^m not 
an educated man. I^m not a gentleman. I don^t reckon 
any friends in Bor^on. I haven'^t been there yet to see the 
hub of the universe sticking out like the bottom of a tea- 
cup in a pumpkin pie. That^s a flush. But I like this old 
country, and I like you, sir, if it isn^t a liberty to say so a 
second time on so short an acquaintance. When a Brit- 
isher runs square, he^’s squarer than any man on the track. 
There^s no psalm-smiting and foot-shuffling about him. I 
won^t go so far as to say Bunker ^s Hill wasn^t a blunder. 
But the checks have been handed in over that little show, 
and the job^s over. Hammer down to the highest bidder. 

Here Mr. Kock, who had imbedded his hand in his shirt 
front, and was planted on the hearth-rug with his other 
hand mider his coat-tails, stood like Brutus, and paused 
for a reply. The reply was a ripple of laughter, which his 
mmor raised to a perfect peal. Then I said that I thought 
I must be going. 

“ WeTl have a sling before we go, squire, to show there ^s 
good feeling, and you just consider yourself free of my 
location to come in and out as you please. The details of 
this little biz will, I suppose, have to be fixed up; but if all 
goes well, you and my gell will be equal to that emergency. 
And I can not help a remark. New York is a fine city, so 


116 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


is New Orleans. So for the matter of that is ^Frisco, bar 
those misbegotten sons of Chinese. So Eockburg will be 
.. when it^s located out. But give Cjtus Napoleon Washing- 
ton Q. Book London before all the cities in the universe 
— now that Nineveh and Babylon are disestablished and 
disendowed. ” 

Soon after I took a most friendly leave, and so ended my 
first evening in the domestic circle — if two points can fix 
the locus of a chcle, which geometricians deny — of Mr. Eock. 

^ ^ 4s 4: ^ 

Fortunately the London Christmas that year was fine. 
There -was no fog, no rain, and no mud, and hardly any 
frost of which to speak. I was consequently able to fulfill 
my promise to the letter, and I took Miss Eock to really 
everything in London and every place in London that an 
American of an inquiring turn of mind and anxious to 
‘‘ put his London through, would wish to see. 

' Let me give a short list by way of sample. Of course 
, there were the Docks and British Museum, Westminster 
! Abbey, and the Tower, and similar places, most of which 
she had visited, but very imperfectly. Then there was the 
Mint and the Monument, and Billingsgate Market; and 
/ there were a number of quaint little places — the halls of 
j the city companies, to one of ‘which I was standing coun- 
\ sel; and Newgate, and St. Jolm^s Gate at Clerkenwell, and 
the old red tower at Canonbury. 

Mr. Eock, too, was interested in places even where their 
authenticity was doubtful, such as the old Jamaica Coffee 
House and Great St. Helenas and the Barbican. We act- 
ually included Primrose Hill in the roimd of our investiga- 
tions, not forgetting Hampstead Heath and the Spaniards. 
We spent the best part of an afternoon in St. Martini’s 
Lane, Leicester Square, Soho, and the Covent Garden. 
We dived into Southwark, and visited the Tabard, which 
had not then been demolished. We explored Chelsea, and 
endeavored to identify Don Saltero^s and the Old Bun 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


117 


House. I think I left no nook untried, and I know that 
my services were fully appreciated. 

Amongst other things — for Americans take a great in- 
terest in criminal cases — we visited the locality of several 
famous murders, such as Great Coram Street, Salfron Hill, 
the Hen and Chickens in the Borough, and others. We 
dived into crypts, wasted many precious minutes over 
monuments and inscriptions, spent a whole afternoon in 
what was once Grub Street and its neighborhood, and 
otherwise, as Mr. Eock expressed, it, so ‘‘ petered our Lon- 
don out that a gross of Chinamen couldn^t extract a dollar 
piece from the refuse. 

I shall go back to Eockburg, sir,^^ said Mr. Eock, a 
prouder man and 'a taller by a considerable number of 
inches. I will not, sir, compare myself to the traveled 
monkey in the fable of your fellow-countryman. Goldsmith, 
with whose ^ Vicar of Wakefield ^ I am well acquainted as 
with ‘ Knickerbocker's History of Hew York;^ but you 
have traveled me a bit, Mr. Severn. You have expanded 
the map, and I am much obliged to you, sir. 

AlFs well that ends well. 

Meantime, the allotted period of probation drew to its 
conclusion, and I was not astonished to receive one morn- 
ing a brief and characteristic letter from Miss Eock. 

“ Dear Mr. Severn, — I ^link we have seen enough of 
each other to come to an opinion, unless either of us is 
keeping back a secret. I know it is not so with me, and I 
would believe no one who said it was so with you. I tliink 
you may come round to the Continental as soon as you like 
without troubling your mind. We shall both be glad to 
see you. 

I like England so well that I am more than content to 
take it up for a permanency, It^s the difference between a 
prairie and a flower garden, but I have my fancies for the 
flower garden. Yours always smcerely, 

‘‘ Elizabeth M. T. Eock.^" 


118 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


I read the letter through, pocketed it, told my clerk that 
I should not return till the next morning, and in really 
less than ten minutes was at the Hotel Continental. 

We dined en famille that night, and an extremely happy 
party we made. I was triumphant, Mr. Rock serene and 
satisfied, and Elizabeth tranquil and radiant. 

We talked about everything except ourselves, and before 
I left, by way of making the thing a solemn family party, 
we actually indulged in a little three-handed euchre, much 
to the amazement of the waiter, who apparently “ did not 
miderstand the game. Then I took my departm’e, Mr. 
Rock evincing his sense of impending relationship by very 
nearly crushing my hand and dislocating my arm, and 1 
found myself on the flags in front of the Royal Academy, 
not a rich man only, but practically a millionaire. 

Yes, my whole life was now closed, except so far as ambi- 
tion might guide or caprice be able to tempt me. I should 
have at my command money more than sufficient to carry 
out any deliberate plan of action or any sudden impulse. I 
knew that so it was, and yet I think I hardly realized the 
fact until I found myself in my bedroom trying to get to 
sleep upon the events of the day, and for some time failing 
signally in the*effort. 

But I slept soundly, nevertheless, and arose next morn- 
ing ready for my before-breakfast ride, from which I re- 
turned with my muscles braced, my blood bounding 
through my veins, and an indefinite horizon open to my 
vision. 

Had I, after all, been more industrious, or more deserv- 
ing than other young men, or was it simply that fortune 
had favored me? 

. I philosophically decided that my gratitude was entirely 
due to fortune, and I astonished the groom who was wait- 
ing for my horse by giving him a sovereign along with the 
usual nod in recognition of his salute. 

“ May your honor have all the luck your honor de- 


JACK AKD THKEE JILLS. 


119 


serves/’ said tl^e man in question, whose name happened 
to be Flanagan, and may the blessed Virgin and all the 
holy saints look after your honor and keep your honor from 
the cess and the trouble.” 

And I believe that Mr. Flanagan’s sincerity was inde- 
pendent of the piece of gold, if, perhaps, stimulated into 
outbreak by it. Anyhow I felt disposed to accept his com- 
plex benediction as an augury of luck. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

As it happened, the next morning was Saturday, and for 
once in a way I had only one case to which to attend. It 
was in the Court of Appeal, and was not likely to be 
reached. 

So, as had been arranged the night before, I met Eliza- 
beth and her father in the great hall of the Courts of Jus- 
tice, and conducted them by the counsel’s corridors and 
entrances from court to court. % 

Elizabeth was interested, but not altogether amused. 
Mr. Rock was profoundly impressed. The building, he 
remarked, was fine, and had very many points about it 
considered as a structure, although, in liis view, it did not 
compare to advantage with the Capitol at Washington. 
Washington, however, was a hole of a location, only fit for 
Indians and mean whites. You were up to knees there m 
summer in the dust, to say nothing of cyclones of dust in 
the air, and you were up to your middle in winter in the 
slush, which was as bad as an up-river lot on the foreshore, 
or back away in the swamps. 

If he were President of the United States he would en- 
gineer a bill to locate the* capital at Saratoga, ancUhe 
guessed it would be a popular measure, and would go far 
toward securing him a second term. But we didn’t under- 
stand these things in England. Here was our court fixed 
at Buckingham Palace, which wasn’t a patch, nor a quarter 


120 


JACK AND THKEE JILLS. 


of a patch, on Hampton Court. Greenwich Hospital we 
turned into a sort of naval West Point. Now Peter the 
Great, who had his eyes just as open as had Cardinal Wol- 
sey, had pitched on Greenwich Hospital for his palace, and 
Peter wasn^t far out. 

He didn^t deny that there were points about Windsor 
Castle, and also about the Tower. But as for Buckingham 
Palace, he considered it altogether shoddy and much the 
same style of architecture as Regent Street. St. Jameses 
Palace was a curious old rehc. 

“ Now, if we had any old buildings in our country, sir,^^ 
he continued, warming up, “ we should take a pride in 
them, and treat them with respect; not let them out for 
paupers and pensioners off the Government and the Court. 
Why, if we had in all New York such a place as your Chel- 
sea Hospital, with its glorious old red brick, and its quad- 
rangles, and its gardens running down to the river, our 
people would come all the way from Florida to see it, and 
would think themselves well paid for their journey. I wish 
we could buy one of those places off you, squire, and trans- 
port it wholesale and entire on a big pontoon. We are 
bu3dng up all your old plate and pictures and books as it 
is. We don’t want to buy your horses. I reckon we can 
show as good of our own. However, if we can’t transplant 
these treasures of yours, we can always cross the pond to 
see them for ourselves, and it makes us kinder recollect 
that we are Enghsh after all and straddle round accord- 
ingly.” 

So Mr. Rock, with more of the same sort. He was a 
perpetual vein of rich native ore, largely mixed with grit, 
bet cropping up from an apparently inexhaustible lode. 

It has been wisely said that your hrst rough impressions 
of a place are not only the most valuable but generally the 
most accurate. To lose yourself in detail is a misfortune 
both for yourself, and — ^if you have any — for your listen- 
ers; or, as the case may be, your readers. 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


121 


A few days later the Rocks departed for Paris, where it 
was settled I was to join them as soon as the courts rose. 
They went by the shortest route; and-^I was consequently 
able to so time my engagements as to bid them farewell on 
the deck of the steamer at Folkestone, and return to town 
myseK by the next train. 

Meantime, Mr. Rock and I had had a very definite con- 
versation, and it had been arranged that the marriage 
should take place in June. Mr. Rock was disappointed 
to find that it would be difficult to obtain permission from 
the dean and chapter to have the thing ‘‘ fixed up and 
put through at Westminster Abbey, and that there were 
even greater obstacles in the way of St. George^s Chapel, 
Windsor, with which, and with its oak stalls and its organ 
and its- garter banners, he had been much impressed. 

If, he profoundly remarked, ‘‘these places belonged 
to the nation, they ought to he available to the nation for 
all reasonable purposes, at a tariff sufficient to prevent a 
block of business, but no more.^^ 

Ultimately, we agreed that, if the marriage was to take 
place in London, if> should he at St. George’s, Hanover 
Square; ’and this matter settled, Mr. Rock and his daugh- 
ter took their departure. 

As to settlements, Mr. Rock took a liberal but an Ameri- 
can view of them. 

“ I shall settle a few dollars on my gell, squire — abso- 
lutely. The bulk of my pile she will, of course, have 
sooner or later. But how I shall tie it up, or whether I 
shall tie it up at all, are matters that I liave not yet settled 
in my own mind; and I have taken the liberty of setthng a 
few dollars a year on you, with remainder to her and her 
heirs, because in tliis Hi-regulated world things do not 
always go on or turn out as you might expect, and so I 
want to make you, without taking any liberty, a present of 
a small insurance against accidents or other contingencies. 


122 


JACK AKD THEEE JILLS. * 




I could only assure Mr. Eock that I appreciated his 
munificence, and fully sympathized with his motives. 

Wal!^^ he said; it^s best to let business be business, 
and pleasure pleasure. Keep ^em apart. You may shake 
■’em up together, but they won^t amalgamate any more’n 
ile and vinegar. Them’s my intentions, squire, and I have 
telegraphed full instructions to my attorneys in Kew York 
to put the matter straight through; and now let’s have a 
small sometliing short and hot, onless you prefer cliam- 
pagne. ” 

As I preferred the “ something short and hot,” we rati- 
fied the contract with it, and, as I remember, we exchanged 
cigar cases, he having a fancy for mine, which was set with 
plaques of pink Du Barry porcelain, and I, for his, which 
was of bark from the Yosemite, hound in oxidized silver. 

It is the philosopher of Stagira who somewhere remarks 
that the exchange of gifts, when_it does not amount to a 
colorable form of bribery, is one of the surest symptoms of 
friendship, and one of its most pleasant cements. 

And now my reader will most naturally ask — what I 
have not perhaps as yet sufficiently explained— what were 
really my feelings toward Miss Eock herself, and how far 
was I acting honestly, or — to use the more current ’phrase 
— ^honorably in marrying her. 

It is a difficult question to answer. The motives of all 
of us are apt to be mixed. There probably never yet was 
a soldier of the Cross, however pious, from the Crusaders 
down to Gordon, who did not enjoy fighting for its own 
sake. , 

Tlie strict honesty I should say, that I was very much 
in the state of mind described in Tennyson’s “ Northern 
Farmer,” of the new style. I was not “ marrjdng for 
money,” but I was distinctly ‘‘mar»ying where money 
was. ” My inclinations and my interests happened to co- 
incide. Had I been in the Church, I should ^probably have 
said that Providence, in its inscrutable wisdom, was sum- 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


123 


moning me for purposes of its own to a wider sphere of 
usefulness. Not being in the Church, I said nothing of 
the kind, hut was nevertheless very well satisfied with the 
turn which Providence had given to matters, or at any rate 
allowed them to take. 

My cards had somehow all turned trumps in my hand, 
as if I had been playing whist. I could have laid them on 
the table and called the game. Fortune always comes 
wdth a rush to the aid of those who aid themselves, exactly 
as when you are on the decline, the fickle jade is ever ready 
to lend you an accelerating push. 

Of course I wrote to my people down in Essex, and re- 
ceived back letters from them, brimming with excitement. 
My father was delighted beyond measure, at what he was 
pleased to term my most prudent choice, and after a page 
or two of wisdom in the style of Polonius, began as usual 
to refer dismally to the condition of his banking account. 

My sisters were more straightforward. They were both 
very pleased. They expressed a strong desire to be bride- 
maids, and they both, poor things, reminded me that the 
only really expensive item in a bride-maid^s accouterments 
was the locket, which it was the fashion now' to decorate 
with the monograms of the bride on one side and bride- 
groom on the other, set in various stones, the initials of 
which spelled out the two names. 

They sent also for me to forward on profuse letters of 
congratulation to fiancee , which I have no doubt were 

labored masterpieces of composition. 

So much for home. So long as thou doest good unto 
thyself men shall speak well of thee.-’^ 


CHAPTER XXII. 

It is difficult to keep many threads in your hand at once. 
I ought, however, just to glance at my Parliamentary 
duties. Practically they gave me no trouble whatever. I 


124 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


had gone into Parliament when I could afford to do so, 
exactly as I had set up a horse and a groom of my own as 
soon as I could afford to do so, hut I had spoken very sel- 
dom, and only on subjects in Avhich I personally took an 
interest; and on these rare occasions I had addressed Mr. 
Speaker with most commendable brevity. 

Divisions I did not attend, unless they were of real im- 
portance to my party, when I made it a point to be pres- 
ent, whatever else might require me elsewhere. In fads, 
such as bills to regulate the hours for the sale of ginger 
beer and other non-intoxicant liquids on Sundays and red- 
letter days, or to forbid the crying of muffins and crumpets 
by bell during the hours of divine worship, I took no man- 
ner of interest. 

I had consequently proved myself not a fussy member 
but a useful one. And above all, I had avoided the blunder 
of asking for papers bearing on the designs of Russia in the 
Equatorial African Belt, or the exact condition, according 
to latest devices, of our relations with the border tribes of 
Patagonia, and the validity of guarantees given by the 
chiefs of that country for the safety of Nonconformist and 
other missionaries. 

So I began to be looked upon before very long as a mem- 
ber who prefers to work for the country rather than to 
make speeches for buncombe. This was what I wanted, 
but I ought to add that I never forgot to open my mouth 
on any question of international law; for international law 
is sound common sense, and it is easy to make it intelligible 
to a common-sense audience as eminently practical as is the 
House of Commons. And, besides, to be credited with a 
knowledge of international law gives you something more 
than a European reputation. . 

Men whom I could mention, and who are still alive, have 
made not only reputations but fortunes, and won their way 
to places of emolument and dignity by a very superficial 


JACK AKD THEEE JILLS. 


125 


acquaintance indeed with Grotius, Puffendorff and Vattel, 
gleaned at second-hand from Wheaton and Travers Twiss. 

The House likes a man with a specialty in him, and to a 
certain extent I may fairly claim that it found that man in 
myself. 

Thus, then, to sum up I was moving 'eveiy way, in Par- 
liament and in my profession; but less in society, for which I 
obviously had not the time even if I had had the inclination. 
I know I was looked upon as a man, who, if not quite un- 
sympathetic, was yet, at all events, shy and reserved, wliich 
fact they kindly ascribed to pressure of work, and the 
malicious -to arrogance. Both were wide of the mark. The 
sole causes of my hermit-crab existence were self-contain- 
ment and a something which was not exactly indolence nor 
yet indifference, but a neutral tint between the two. 

Nor do I believe this frame of mind to be at all un- 
wholesome. It certainly in no way impairs your position, 
usefulness, either to the world at large, or to those that 
have direct claims upon you; and these are, after all, the 
best test of a man^s mental habits that I can suggest. 

'About this time a criminal case occurred which excited 
the wildest interest, not in England only, but over the 
whole Continent. 

A young girl of about two-and-twenty, singularly beau- 
'tiful, but with a very doubtful character and a notoriously 
resolute and vindictive temper, was charged with poisoning 
a very worthless kind of fellow, a French drawing-master, 
>v[th a remarkably bad dossier in Paris, and nothing to 
recommend him in England except his good looks, his 
smooth tongue, his savoir-faire, and a certain facility with 
his pencil. 

The' girPs name was Margaret Wilson, and she was the 
daughter of a Liverpool merchant. Having some talent, 
or at any rate liking for art, she had attended the art 
classes at the Ladies’ College, with the full knowledge of 
her parents, and here she had made the acquaintance of 


126 


JACK AND THEEE JILLS. 


M. Achille Daubray, who was one of the masters at the 
college in question, but of whose antecedents literally noth- 
ing seemed to be known. 

He had dropped into the toTO nobody knew how or from 
where, and had commenced by allowing the fancy shop- 
keepers to sell pretty little water-color sketches for him 
upon a liberal commission. His sketches were dexterous 
enough in the smartest manner of the boulevards, but so 
carefully toned down as to avoid even the possibility of a 
shock to English prejudices. 

He then, as I have said, secured himself a footing in the 
Ladies^ College, and now dropped his trifles, and refused to 
paint anything but portraits at a rate by no means deter- 
rent, but more than sufficient to enable him, either openly 
or secretly, to gratify all his tastes, which were those of the 
very worst, most selfish and most unscrupulous Parisian 
maquereau. Inter alia, as it turned out when his dossier 
was sent over by the Parisian police, he was acquainted 
with Toulon, and had been more than once suspected of 
crimes which, if proved, would have resigned him to tra- 
vaux forces d perpetuiU. 

This man had, according to all popular-belief, carried on 
an intrigue for some months with Margaret Wilson, doing 
the best he could to ascertain her pecuniary position, and 
evidently intending to go through the form of marriagfe 
with her if her fortune, when he could form an estimate of 
it, should justify him in the step. 

When he found that his prize was not as large as he had 
imagined, and that he could play his cards with better ad- 
vantage elsewhere, he most brutally told the girl as much, 
and insisted that all relations between them should be 
broken off. 

She wrote him a very artful letter, submitting fully to 
his prudence and better judgment, and, without any idle 
or irritating reproaches or complaints, but she sent him 
some keys by which he could gain admission to the house 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


127 


after dusk, and begged him, as a last favor, to visit her for 
the last time, in the dead of the night, and in her own 
room. 

There he sat, according to his own account, for about an 
hour, during which she pressed upon him a couple of 
glasses of wine. The night was chilly, and he’ hardly 
needed the pressing, but at last the sky began to lighten, 
and it was time for him to sneak away. He had hardly 
reached his own lodgings when he was seized with the 
most violent symptoms, and at once sent for medical aid, 
communicating his suspicions to the doctors. The medical 
aid was too late. He had taken a dose of tartar emetic, 
enough to kill not one man, but half a dozen, and he died 
in agonies, which he fully deserved. 

The tarter emetic was found in him in quantities prac- 
tically enormous, an^, as he was about the last man to have 
committed suicide, and, in fact, died in the most abject 
terror, there was but one conclusion at which primd facie 
to arrive. So, at all events, the magistrates thought, for 
they committed Miss Wilson to take her' trial at the next 
Assizes. 

I had just mastered the case from the Retailed reports in 
the Liverpool papers, and had, of course, formed my own 
conclusion on it, when my clerk informed me that a gen- 
tleman of the name of Jackson had paid me a special re- 
tainer, and a very considerable fee, and wished to see me at 
once. 

I heard incidentally afterward that the funds for the de- 
fense, which was extremely costly, involving the calling of 
many eminent experts, had been very liberally contributed 
to by the French Embassy, which happened to know all 
about M. Daubray and to be rather glad than otherwise 
than he was out of the way. 

Mr. Jackson was accordingly admitted. He was a port- 
ly man, respectably dressed, with an immensely fat face — • 


128 


JACK AND THKEE JILLS. 


apparently devoid of any .expression — a solemn but ex- 
tremely deferential manner and apparel, which, togethre 
with a heavy watch-chain and a gold signet — he was entire- 
ly innocent of other jewelry — denoted extreme solvency. - 

“ This is a most sad case, sir,^^ he commenced, clearing 
his throat, and with something like moisture in his eyes. 
‘‘ I never knew so sad a case in the whole of my long pro- 
fessional experience. But I have the assurance of the 
young lady herself — a most charming, accomplished, and, 
indeed, lovely girl, that she is entirely innocent, her own 
belief being that the miscreant committed suicide out of re- 
venge, which seems possible enough to those who, like 
members of yom’ learned profession, have to necessarily be 
familiar with every side of human nature. I have left the 
papers, sir, with your clerk, and with your permission will 
have a consultation, when you have mastered them; and I 
have taken the liberty of asking your clerk to suggest two 
juniors to hold under you, which he has very kindly done, 
although — and here he smiled discreetly — ‘‘ it was cer- 
tainly not professional conduct on my part to do as much. 
Meantime we wish for a writ under Palmer^s Act, in order 
that the case may be tried in London. I hardly fancy the 
application will bS opposed, as my affidavits are extremely 
strong. The local press has taken the matter up with the 
most extreme ignorance and virulence, and local opinion is 
so excited that meetings have actually "been held, and 
speeches made, to say notlnng of - sermons in the local 
pulpits. All this, of course, makes our application little 
more than formal, but I have given due notice to the 
Crown, and will arrange with the Treasury solicitor to have 
the matter brought on at your convenience. I am afraid I 
shall have to trouble you with several further consultations, 
but all that I will arrange with your clerk. 

And here Mr. Jackson rose to his feet and made me a 
most profomid bow. 

“ I will give the case* all my attention, Mr. Jackson, 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


139 


said I, and as it is a matter of life and death, will let 
nothing interfere with my personal attendance at it. 

“ You are too kind, sir. It^s more than my client could 
have expected, hut I will at once inform her, and relieve 
her mind, and she will, I am sure, be correspondingly 
grateful, as indeed she ought. 

And with this expression of opinion Mr. Jackson pro- 
foundly bowed himself out. 

As soon as Mr. Jackson had left, my clerk, Mr. Gutte- 
ridge entered. Barristers^ clerks are like Pharoah^s cattle, 
of two kinds, the lean kind and the fat kind, and Gutte- 
ridge certainly belonged to the sleeker variety. His ap-. 
pearance was that of a prosperous stock-broker, or of a 
wealthy merchant, and it was easy to see that the stagna- 
tion and depression of wjiich the majority of his brother 
clerks were complaining had, at any rate, exercised no 
baleful influence upon him. 

The Bar at present is as severely depressed as are all 
other professions and occupations, and one sign of this de- 
pression is very noticeable. If you saunter leisurely 
through the Temple, you are almost certain to come across 
a man past the prime of life, of unmistakably respectable 
demeanor, and whose apparel has obviously seen its best 
days. He is doing nothing. It is clear, indeed, that he is 
on the lookout for a job, or is, to borrow the expressive 
phrase of Mr. Montagu Tigg, “ round the corner. You 
meet him, let us say, iii Essex Court. In Pump Court you 
will come across a second specimen. There is a third wait- 
ing in a hopeless kind of way under Goldsmith Buildings. 
And there are almost sure to be a couple in King^s Bench 
Walk, listlessly interested in the trees and the sparrows, 
but with the weather-eye wide open for anything that might 
turn up. These more or less dilapidated individuals are 
barristers^ clerks out of employment, and in quest of a new 
situation. Their last employer has died, or has retired 
from practice, or has accepted a colonial judgeship> and 


130 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


the imhappy clerk has found himself out of employment^ 
and with literally nothing to which he can turn his hand. 

The career of a harrister^s clerk is extremely precarious. 
There are great prizes in it, no doubt. The clerk of a 
great leader will make fifteen hundred a year very easy by 
legitimate fees, and half as much again indirectly. Then, 
of course, if his master becomes a judge, he is permanently 
provided for. But the majority of barristers^ clerks have 
a very hard time of it. They have usually commenced life 
as office boys at a few shillings a week. The office boy of 
the Temple is a gamin sui generis. His impishness is 
something absolutely incredible, his precocity miraculous, 
and his_ knowledge of the world worthy of a queen^s 
counsel and circuit leader. Por most boys — stable boys, 
errand boys, shop boys, and other such varieties of the 
genus — the law has its terrors. The office boy in the Tem- 
ple knows better. Familiarity has bred contempt in him, 
and he will even go so far as to contest the right of way 
upon the pavement with a city policeman. Of these 
promising young gentlemen a certain number are dismissed 
for petty olfenses. A few are convicted of theft and em- 
bezzlement, and disappear from the society they have en- 
livened. A still larger number abandon the law in disgust 
and take to more adventurous callings — ^becoming sailors, 
or railway porters, or potmen, or enlisting, or otherwise 
adopting a buccaneer life. A select few take kindly to the 
law, and ultimately develop into hamsters^ clerks. 

The nominal duties of a barnstorms clerk are very light. 
He has to wait upon his master, to aid him in robing and 
unrobing, to introduce clients to his notice, to receive the 
fees, and to account for them. His actual duties go very 
far beyond this. He is expected to act as a sort of factotum 
to his employer, to go messages for him, to make incon- 
venient excuses for him, and generally to tell, or, indeed, 
to invent, any lie that may be necessary upon the spur of 
the moment. He must also make him acquainted with 


JACK AND THKEE JILLS. 


131 


solicitors, and must ascertain which among that fraternity 
are respectable and likely to pay their fees, and which are 
of shady reputation and not to be trusted at all, or at any 
rate beyond a given limit. Barristers^ clerks confer to- 
gether upon these subjects, and have private black books 
of their own, far more terrible than any memoranda ever 
issued from the bureau of Stubbs or Perry. But this is 
the mere fringe of the clerk^s work. His real duty is to 
act as “ bonnet ” to the barrister, whom he serves. I use 
the term ‘‘ bonnet in no invidious sense. A chaperon is 
to a certain extent a “ bonnet to the young lady whom 
she escorts. It is a recognized part of her duty to repre- 
sent the fair debutante as accomplished, amiable, affection- 
ate, and generally possessed of all the cardinal virtues. She 
has, in short, to beat a big drum, and to discourse music 
upon the pipes. The duties of the barrister's clerk are 
analogous. Whatever may be his own private opinion, he 
has to endeavor to make everybody believe in the immense 
capabilities, profound learning, and consummate experience 
of his ‘‘ governor. He has, in other words, to tout. 
There are more ways than one of touting, and the best 
clerk is the one who displays the greatest amount of finesse 
in this diflBcult art. Much might be written on touting as 
one of the fine arts, dividing it into its kinds, and distin- 
guishing between the clerk who hangs about bars in Fleet 
Street, chronicling his master^s achievements, and the 
clerk who takes a promising solicitor to a Sunday dinner at 
Eichmond, captures a big brief with a check inside the red 
tape, and receives the expenses of the day as secret seiwice 
money. These peculiar functions tend to create a special 
kind of intimacy between the clerk and his master. Many 
barristers on retiring from practice deal most handsomely 
by their clerks, starting them in a business, or otherwise 
providing for them. Others can no more dispense with 
their clerk than could Mr. Pickwick have dispensed with 
Mr. Samuel Weller. He has become a necessary part of 


132 


JACK AKD THKEE JILLS. 


their existence^ or, to put it mildly, a necessary evil; and 
so, under one excuse or another, they continue to retain his 
services. And this affection is often reciprocal. I know 
of one instance, so recent that I forbear to give the names, 
of a clerk who died without wife or family, and left all his 
savings — several thousand pounds — to his master. Indeed 
the clerk is an informal partner with the barrister; and is 
often treated as such. 

The usual method of payment is for the barrister to 
guarantee his clerk a small sum. The clerk ^s fees beyond 
this amount are his own. Everything for him depends, of 
coui’se, upon the success of his employer. The two are in 
the same boat. 

‘‘ I hope, sir,^^ said Mr. Gutteridge, ‘‘ that you will ex- 
cuse my congratulating 3^011 upon getting this case. Fer- 
ret (Ferret was clerk to Mr. Searcher, the famous crimi- 
nal advocate) ‘‘ told me this morning that his governor was 
instructed. I know Ferret^s not too truthful, but I did 
believe him this time, and you could have knocked me over 
with a feather when Mr. Jackson called and told me what 
he had come about. I do indeed congratulate you, sir. ” 

I thanked Mr. Gutteridge very cordially, for I knew that 
he was perfectly sincere, and that his joy at my good fort- 
une was quite unalloyed with any selfish motive. 

“ I am afraid it is too great a responsibility, Gutte- 
ridge. 

Not a bit of it, sir, not a bit of it! If there^s a sohc- 
itor in London who knows his business it^s Mr. Jackson; 
and when he picked you out, sir, he knew what he was 
about. Can you excuse me, sir, for a quarter of an hour?’^ 
Certainly, Gutteridge.^" So Mr. Gutteridge went out, 
and I have little doubt that his object was to fall across the 
mendacious Ferret, and to pulverize that gentleman with 
the weighty news of this eventful afternoon. 

♦ * ♦ ■ % ^ ^ ^ 

Here, at any rate, was a case which, instead of putting 


JACK AKD THKEE JILLS. 


133 


judges together by the ears and adding to the already enor- 
mous bulk of law reports, would probably involve no point 
of law whatever, which would be for awhile the cause 
celeire of Europe, and which was in itself extremely curi- 
ous and interesting. 

So I took the papers, and as far as I could read through 
them for the first time, making brief notes in the margin 
with blue and red pencil. The depositions came out only 
too clearly. The magistrates would have grossly neglected 
their duty if they had dismissed the charge. But I could 
see my way to a defense sufiiciently plausible in the lines so 
astutely suggested by Mr. Jackson; and it was a defense 
not at all unlikely to succeed, if made with boldness. 

Then I found myself dwelhng on technical parts of the 
evidence, into which space forbids me now to enter, al- 
though I recollect them distinctly. And so I sat for sev- 
eral hours until I felt I knew, enough of the matter to 
abandon it for the day. 

After dinner at the Windham, I visited the smoking- 
room, where conversation ran upon nothing but the case. 
Precluded from joining in the talk that was going on, I 
was yet a most attentive fistener to it, and went away with 
a very good idea of the lines upon which I should hafve to 
deal with the jury. 

There is nothing so invaluable in practical life as the 
opinion of the man in the street; and the opinion of the 
man in the smoking-room of your club is the next best to 
that of the man in the street which you can possibly get 
or even want. ' 

Fortified with much of this collective sagacity, I went 
home, seeing two things very clearly — that the guilt of 
Margaret Wilson was believed in without a doubt; that her 
acquittal was universally desired, ahd that as for the no 
doubt inconveniently painful death of Daubray, there was 
a strong current of opinion to the effect that it only served 
him right. 


134 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


So far then my work with the jury would be compara- 
tively easy. My task would be to break down the facts as 
much as possible; to badger the scientific witnesses for the 
Crown, and, on my own side, to get out as much as I could 
of the character of Daubray himself; to put him at his 
worst before the jury, and to further bewilder the average 
minds of the twelve good men and true, by calling as many 
scientific witnesses on my own side as I possibly could. 

I communicated these conclusions to Mr. Jackson the 
next morning, and he set to work with the greatest zeal, at 
once securing by telegraph the attendance of the Govern- 
ment expert in medical jurisprudence at Berlin, of two 
most eminent physicians from Paris, and of all the best 
talent in London, that was not already arrayed on the other 
side. 

This would of course cost money. But money, sir,^^ 
said Mr. Jackson, with a profundity worthy of Lord Bur- 
leigh himself, ‘‘is no object, absolutely no object what- 
ever. And it certainly seemed as if this astute gentle- 
man was thoroughly justified in his assertions, for I never 
knew a case in which money was spent more lavishly. 
When, for instance, the Treasury, which is always late, set 
about finding medical experts to back its opinion, it found 
to its dismay that all the medical experts were on the other 
side. I fear, moreover, that one or two witnesses for the 
Crown, not of essential importance, but still valuable, 
found it. necessary to disregard their recognizances and to 
pay a flying visit to France. It is scarcely necessary to add 
that this was a matter of reference to which I did not re- 
ceive Mr. Jackson’s confidences. 

Mr. Jackson let me know of the facts from day to day. 
“We have innocence on our side, no doubt, he observed, 
with a face that might have been carved out of solid 
granite. “We have innocence on our side, but I must 
admit that fortune also seems to favor us. And I am de- 


JACK AKD THEEE JILLS. 


135 


Voutly thankful to Providence that such should be the 
case/’ 

And then he shook his head and took snuff. 

Our application to have the case tried in London was of 
course successful. The possibility of prejudice at Liver- 
pool was too obvious for any number of affidavits to swear 
it away; and our own affidavits, as Jackson had told me, 
were practically unanswerable. So I had now only to wait 
till the day came, and then go up to the Old Bailey and do 
battle. 

Nor was it a case that required immense study. It was 
not a campaign. It would rather be a sharp cavalry skir- 
mish, needing nerve and dash, a steadily balanced seat, a 
firm light left hand, and a heavy, swinging right. So 
that, as Mr. Jackson hinted with the greatest tact, it was 
far more important that I should come up to the scratch in 
good physical trim ihan that I should be worried with 
details. 

‘‘ I will leave the details, sir,” he said, to your learned 
juniors, and I will stick right below you myself in the well 
of the court, and never leave you for a minute. Take care 
of yourself, sir, and trust your humble servant.” And 
with a bow combining at once humility, independence and 
omniscience, Mr. Jackson backed himself out. 

The man had impressed me immensely. It could hardly 
be that he had missed his chances in life, or wasted them. 
He could never have had them. I could not help feeling 
that in many ways he was most distinctly my superior, and 
yet our system of society, which is as ridiculous as that of 
the Hindoos, had made me a Brahmin and him a criminal 
lawyer — a thing in English eyes little better than a Sudra. 

But . the man somehow fascinated me. The case inter- 
ested me; and I saw the wisdom of his advice that I should 
look to my nerves rather than to my brief, and I acted 
upon it. 

A few days before the trial, I received a very long and 


136 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


sisterly letter from Susan. She was at Nice, but had read 
all about the case in the English papers; and the Parisian 
papers, especially the Figaro and the Gazette des 
Tribunaux,^^ which datter she was specially taking in, were 
full of it, and she saw that I h^ been retained. I had 
now, she said, the chance not of success, which I had 
already won, but of something like a brilliant triumph; 
something to show for once and for all what I was worth, 
and I must use it most carefully. 

Curiously enough, I know something of Mr. Jackson,^’ 
the letter went on. “ He is immensely capable, entirely to 
be relied upon, and not in the least likely to mislead you 
by any overconfidence of his own.^^ Then she rattled on 
about other things. 

I sometimes think, ^^ khe concluded, ‘‘ of retiring to a 
convent, not as a sister, but as a penitent. The idea, how- 
ever, is only transitory. I am not conscious of any very 
great sins, and I am still very fond of life, in which, while 
I am free, I find the opportunities and have the power of 
doing good. This would be a miserable world indeed if we 
could not do a little good in it without organized effort — I 
in my way, you in yours, and Monsieur le Cure and Mon- 
sieur le Prefet each in theirs. That you are doing good I 
am certain. All honest work is noble, if it be only sweep- 
ing out a stable or blacking boots. The surgeon with his 
diplomas and his case of instruments is not higher in my 
mind than the dresser with his lint and sponges. But 
yours is work of the highest caste, and I think you have 
succeeded in it, because you were born to it. Go on and 
succeed. I am too old and too fond of you to flatter you. 

‘‘ Yours always, 

‘‘ Susan Brabazon. "" 

If anything could have pulled me together for the trial, 
this letter would have done it. I may just add that after 
reading it over and over again I had put it into my watch- 


JACK AND THKEE JILLS. , 137 

pockety and went into court with it (by a coincidence, for I 
am by no means superstitious) exactly over my heart. 


CHAPTER XXin. 

The day for the trial came, and I felt with misgiving 
that the forces arrayed against me were distinctly formi- 
dable. The attorney-general, who led for the Crown, was a 
cold, clear-headed, calculating man, with considerable 
presence, some pretensions to eloquence, and great readi- 
ness. Beyond these he had no virtues, not being a genius, 
as was Cockburn, or a born aristocrat, and consequently a 
born gentleman, as was John Burgess Karslake. 

I speak of these two great men with a reverence which 
perhaps may not be apparent. They were the giants of 
my day, and I doubt if at the common law Bar, at any 
rate, they have ever had their equals. The attorney-gen- 
eraTs Junior, or, as he is now commonly termed, devil,^^ 
Mr. E. L. Jones, was also a dangerous man, clear-headed, 
vigorous, and resolute, with inexhaustible power of work. 
Then there was Mr. Berners, an experienced stuff gown of 
any age, of exasperating accuracy in detail, and with a 
mind like a machine. 

‘‘When the Jury,"’^ said Mr. Berners to me, “are told 
to consider their verdict, my work is over, and I really do 
not care twopence what that verdict may be. If there is a 
point of law to be reserved, that is quite another matter. 
The points of law are always interesting. They have noth- 
ing to do whatever with the merits of the case, and they 
consequently have for an impartial mind a charm of their 
own. Xow I know, my dear fellow, as well as you ought 
to know, that your interesting client poisoned this scoun- 
drel, and you and I are probably agreed that he richly de- 
served it. I suppose that line will be your red herring with 
the Jury, although, of course, I am not asking. But I am 
concerned with the fact of the poisoning, and I want to see 


138 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


the jury convinced of it. I should launch with the judge 
and sheriffs, if I were you. It^s best to do so. And it 
prevents the piece being talked about between the acts, 
which is always undesirable. 

And Mr. Berners sorted his papers, and, for all men at 
the Bar develop funny little habits of their own, hoisted up 
the slack of his breeches as if he were a sailor. 

The judge. Sir John Manley, had an evil reputation as a 
hanging judge. It was thoroughly undeserved. He 
merely did his duty with an entire absence of mawkish 
sentiment. He was a. strange mixture of contrarieties. 
He hved practically as alone as Mr. Tulkinghorn of “ Bleak 
House, ” in an immense mansion in Lincoln's Inn Fields. 
He was supposed to be superior to every human infirmity, 
and in many respects he resembled Ignatius Loyola, just 
as intense frost resembles intense heat. His mind was as 
precise as a chronometer, and almost as insensible to ex- 
ternal infiuences. In private life he was, if not austere, at 
all events, simple, almost to the point of ostentation. His 
only two weaknesses were hors^ racing and fox terriers. 
Of the latter he had a strain of his own, and was seldom 
seen abroad in mufti without two or three of them at his 
heels. He also never missed a horse race, and was under- 
stood to be confidential adviser to the Jockey Club, of 
which ornament to our civilization he had been for many 
years an honorary member. 

He was a most unpleasant judge with whom to have to 
deal in such a case, but his clear-headedness was at any 
rate a gain. I believe that for the wretched prisoner he 
felt as little sympathy One way or the other as do the 6*o- 
cottes of Monaco for the miserable crippled pigeons that 
tumble into the sea beyond the limits of the shooting- 
ground. And yet there were strange streaks of humanity 
in him, of which perhaps the most remarkable was a de- 
testation, amounting almost to hatred, of anything like 
cruelty, meanness, or oppression. This humanitarianism, 


JACK AKD THEEE JILLS. 


139 


if I may so term it, lie carried into the minutest details of 
life, and he would devote a whole morning of his life to 
attending a police court, that he might give evidence 
against a costermonger for torturing a donkey. 

Thus everything would depend partly upon the humor 
he was in, and partly upon the particular view he might 
take of the case. 

Tartar emetic is a cruel poison. It tortures as well as 
kills, and this fact was, of course, against us. On the 
other hand, mental torture, which the prisoner had un- 
doubtedly suffered in its wickedest form, was a something 
that would make his blood boil, and predispose him to 
almost take upon himself some of the functions of her ad- 
vocate. I doubt upon the whole if we could have had a 
better judge. 

I may add, that I was personally acquainted with Sir 
John Manley, who, when at the Bar, had been an intimate 
friend of my grandfather^s, and I had received much kind- 
ness from him. 

The prisoner appeared in the dock in the plainest possi- 
ble dress, and with a heavy veil, which she lifted to plead, 
and then let fall again. She was allowed a seat, and she 
never once changed or moved her attitude. The jury, for 
all that they could tell, might have been trying a veiled 
statue. 

The attorney-generaBs opening was logical, dispassionate, 
and extremely dangerous. He began by telling the jury 
that they must dismiss from their miuds, as he did from 
his, all sentiments except that of simple justice. He was 
there unsworn to do his duty. They were there sworn 
upon their.,' oaths to give a true verdict according to the 
evidence, and the evidence alone. And he then proceeded 
to weave his rope. 

Daubray was a man beneath human contempt, but not 
the less under the protection of the law. With his char- 
acter they were not concerned. They had to try the sim- 


140 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


pie issue of how he came by his death. He believed he 
should satisfy them beyond all possibility of doubt that the 
prisoner had the strongest reasons in the world for wishing 
to remove him out of her path. He should show them 
that she purchased clandestinely a poison well known as 
producing effects strikingly similar to those of ordinary 
disease, and one perpetually recurring in the dreary annals 
of criminal trials. He would prove that after she had pos- 
sessed herself of this poison Daubray visited her at her own 
instigation. He returned home, and was almost imme- 
diately seized with the most violent and agonizing symp- 
toms. He at once expressed his conviction that he had 
been poisoned, and that ponviction was amply justified by 
his almost immediate death and by the discovery of the 
poison in his body, in quantities that could leave no doubt 
it had been feloniously administered. "What possible ex- 
planation of these facts, which could be proved down to 
their minutest detail, would be offered by his learned 
friends for the defense, it was not his part to anticipate. 
It would be for the jury to consider these facts in all their 
bearings, and to give their evidence in accordance with 
them. And these facts he would now establish to such 
demonstration as is possible in all human matters short of 
scientific problems. All he begged was for the jury to dis- 
charge their duty as impartially and with as little feeling 
as it was his hope, and he might say his prayer, that he 
should discharge his own. 

I must confess that I had never before heard a more tell- 
ing, powerful, and utterly unimpassioned address. 

Then came the evidence with which my reader is already 
acquainted, and which I will not again infiict upon him in 
detail. The judge exasperated me, and at the same time 
I think did me good with the jury, by putting questions of 
his own intended to bring out little points which it seemed 
to him the prosecution had missed. But the evidence con- 
tinued its course irresistibly, and I could not help wonder- 


SACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


141 


ing whether the jury, being simple men on their oaths, 
would be capable of resisting it. 

The one point to which I directed myself was the amount 
of tartar emetic taken, and in this I confess my object was 
rather to mystify the jury than to set up any theory of my 
own. The twelve good men and true got fairly bewildered 
by the amount of the drug that had been used. It had 
been enough to kill half a dozen men. How could one 
man have taken it without being aware of the fact, and 
how could he have got home without being overtaken by 
its effects upon the road? Might it not have been possible 
that he had taken the poison himself out of bravado, and 
knowing that in an overdose it was its own antidote, by the 
intense vomiting it produces? I could see that they were 
ready, as Daubray^s character came out, more and more to 
catch at any suggestion which would enable them to give 
the wretched girl the benefit of a doubt. 

I must here say that I am condensing a trial which 
began on a Monday and ended late on a Friday night, and 
that I do not wish to spin it out into many chapters, much 
less into a volume. 

By the time the evidence for the tlrown was concluded, 
I had brought out more than enough in cross-examination 
to make the jury look upon Daubray as a noxious vermin 
whose death on any except legal grounds was a consumma- 
tion to be devoutly sympathized with. If there is one 
offense more heinous in the eyes of an average Englishman 
than another, it is the crime of chantage, and of this they 
had clearly made up their minds that Daubray had been 
guilty. They must have jumped at this conclusion; as 
there waspio direct evidence of it, but they had evidently 
got it fixed in their heads, and I could see that it was work- 
ing with them strongly in the prisoner's favor. 

We have all kinds of more or less absurd rules as to what 
may or may not be brought out in evidence upon a crim- 
inal trial. In theory, these rules are more or less admir- 


142 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


able. In law treatises they are stated with the utmost 
perspicuity. But, as a matter of fact, in any trial of im- 
portance everything that the jury ought to know to aid 
them in their judgment somehow comes out as clearly as 
if we had no rules of evidence whatever. The jury, in a 
dogged way, are determined to get at the whole truth, in- 
cluding anything collateral that may aid them, and it has 
been my experience that they invariably succeed. 

On the fourth day of the trial, a Thursday, I had to 
open my case for the defense, and I can not even now re- 
frain from briefly indicating the line I took. 

Beginning with the customary commonplaces, I told the 
jury I should invite them to believe that this miserable ad- 
venturer, seducer, and black-mailer had, as a last attempt, 
made a pretense of poisoning himself, and had carried his 
wicked attempt at intimidation and extortion too far. 
Upon this view I dwelt in all its probabilities, until I could 
see that the twelve good men and true had thoroughly got 
hold of it, and were prepared to clutch at it if they could 
possibly see their way to do so. And I then ventured upon 
what, looking back even at this time, I can not but con- 
sider a cony. 

Daubray, I invited the jury to believe, had persuaded his 
victim to buy the poison herself, at different places, and in 
her own name; telling her that he wanted it, and adding 
that as an alien, and not favorably known in the town, he 
would have difficulties himself in its purchase. He had 
then, meeting her by his own appointment, and having re- 
ceived the drug from her, threatened, with that love of 
theatrical effect which is so innate in Frenchmen of the 
worst type, to take the whole dose upon the spoL unless 
she consented to all his demands. I reminded tMm that 
the threat of suicide is the dernier ressort of a French ad- 
venturer, and is one to which they almost invariably have 
recourse. Supposing he had carried out this vile design, 
was it not possible that he might have drunk the dose in her 


JACK AKD THKEE JILLS. 


143 


presence, perhaps miscalculating its full strength, perhaps 
intending that the very amount of the poison might prove 
its own antidote? I then sketched the state of mind of this 
victim, more horror-struck than ever, with not only shame 
upon her head, but with the scaffold clearly in her path, 
powerless, bewildered, and incapable of action — paralyzed 
in mind, and probably even in hmb, by the horror of the 
situation and its terrible dangers. 

Daubray, I suggested, finding that to reason with her 
was hopeless, and fearing that to stay with her would be 
dangerous, had hurried home. The agonies of death had 
come upon him even in that brief journey. He had hur- 
riedly sent for medical aid, and had died with a lie upon 
his perjured lips, endeavoring to take away the life itself of 
the girl whom he had black-mailed, ruined, and betrayed. 
The whole facts of the case, and the whole antecedents of 
the man, harmonized with this thejory. It left no fact un- 
explained, or unaccounted for. It contradicted no single 
fact that had been deposed to in evidence. It was complete 
in itself, and if they found it so, it was their duty to give 
credence to it, and to acquit the young girl in the dock of 
the terrible crime of which she stood charged. Her young 
life and her fair fame were in their hands, and were in- 
finitely more valuable than the life of the miscreant who, 
as I begged them to believe, had terminated his wretched 
career with malice and murder in his heart, and with a he 
trembling on his lips as he had passed to a tribunal higher 
and more infallible than any on earth. 

The most tragic of criminals have a cruelly matter-of- 
fact side. I sat down, so the papers said, amidst applause, 
which immediately suppressed by the officers of the 
court. But I could see that I had not mistaken my effect 
upon the jury. Then I turned my glance to the left, 
where the prisoner Avas seated, veiled and motionless, in the 
dock. Then I looked up at the bench, and in spite of the strain 
of mind that was upon me, could not refrain from a start. 


144 


JACK AND THREE JILLS* 


Seated By one of tlie slieriffs, with the customary large 
bouquet of flowers which is a relic of the old days when the 
court was strewed with herbs as an antidote to the jail 
fever, was a lady with her veil down, but whom I none the 
less recognized at once. It was Susan Brabazon. 

I hurried out of court, which was adjourned at the end 
of my speech, and I hunted up and down through the cor- 
ridors and lobbies, and made every inquiry, but without 
result. AU I could gather was that the lady had come in 
with a sheriff ^s order — which it is not at all a difficult thing 
to ’ procure — that her brougham had been waiting in the 
yard all the morning, and that she had driven away the 
moment the court had risen. 

There was nothing to be done for it but to go through 
the solemn midday luncheon with the judge, ^eriffs, and 
aldermen in the aldermen^s private room. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

When this repast was concluded, the court reassembled, 
and I began to call my few scientific witnesses — few but 
admirably selected by Mr. Jackson. That gentleman sat 
below me with solemii, stohd confidence on his vast expanse 
of features, and my witnesses certainly did their work im- 
commonly well. 

They all declared that the facts were perfectly consistent 
with my theory; that tartar emetic is a poison most uncer- 
tain and capricious in its action; that most minute doses of 
it have proved fatal, and that large doses of it have been 
taken with impunity, and of both these j)ropositions, they 
cited any number of instances in proof. It wfn a poison 
which when used by murderers had always been given m 
very minute doses, and at intervals, being what is knowui 
to toxicologists as a slow poison. In this way it often es- 
capes detection, eliminating itself from the system while 
its mm’derous effects are still going on. And there is little 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 145 

doubt that it was antimony in the form of tartar emetic 
which was the Aqua Tofana of the Middle Ages. 

They were very profound in their manner and demeanor, 
were these gentlemen. Isome of them gave their evidence 
through an interpreter, but the majority spoke very slowly 
but most intelligibly in strongly accentuated English. 
They puzzled the jury, but they did no more. 

I briefly summed up their evidence, and the attorney- 
general, either from courtesy, or because he had exhausted 
all that he could urge, did little more than remind the jury 
of their terrible responsibihty, disclaim any attempt on his 
own part to give color to the case, and generally remind 
them of the gravity of the issue and the sacred nature of 
the oath. 

And now came the turn of .Mr. Justice Manley. His 
lordship was almost ostentatiously impartial, and yet it was 
only too clear that his own mind was made up. I could 
find no fault with what he said; I could take no exception 
to it, but I inwardly feared that it was telling against the 
motionless statue in the dock, and I knew his lordship well 
enough to know that it was intended to do so. 

The jury listened with profound attention, and retired 
without asking any irrelevant or fooHsh questions. 

It was seven o^clock when they left. Mr. Justice Man- 
ley retired to his private room, and the jury to consider 
theii’ verdict. The crowd in court produced flasks, 
oranges, and other comestibles, and began to discuss the 
case in all its bearings, and the probability of the verdict, 
as is their invariable habit. 

Let us come out into the corridor, sir,^^ said Mr. Jack- 
son. “ These lunatics have come for a hanging match. 
But I think you have won on the post. 

Eor an hour I paced with Mr. Jackson up and down the 
cool matted corridors. Mr. Jackson was confident that we 
should win. I was more than doubtful. 

I know the average British dunderhead better perhaps 


146 


JACK AND THBEE ^ILLS. 


than you do/^ said he. Our doctors have fogged them a 
little. The fellow was a thorough-paced blackguard, which 
is a thing they naturally dislike, and he was a foreigner, 
which in these days of foreign competition, is a thing your 
British tradesman hates, as he hates co-operative stores, or 
anything that touches his pocket. The behavior of our 
client was perfect; it could not have been better, and told 
vastly in her favor. If the jury can let her off, they will, 
but it will be a bad sign if theyTe over an hour. They are 
bound to wait a considerable time for decency’s sake. ” 

For an hour almost to the minute we had to pace up and 
down. Then it was announced that the jury had arrived 
at their verdict, and were coming back, so we too quickly 
returned to court. 

The prisoner stood at the bar of the dock, immovable, 
and with her eyes looking out before her into space. Even 
now I can recollect the extreme beauty of her face. Her 
hair was brushed plainly back, as you can see the hair in 
the Greek statues of Artemis. Against her closely fitting 
black dress and small black bonnet, her clearly cut features 
showed out with a terrible paleness. Mr. Justice Manley 
was evidently as anxious as any one else, and to those who 
know that learned ornament to the bench, I need hardly 
say more. 

Gentlemen of the jury,” asked the clerk of arraigns, 
after the names had been called over, ‘‘ are you all agreed 
upon your verdict?” 

‘‘We are,” answered the foreman, resolutely. 

“ Do you say that the prisoner at the bar is guilty of the 
willful murder of Achille Daubray, or not guilty?” 

“ Not guilty,” replied the foreman, firmly.' * 

Then several things happened at once. The clerk of 
arraigns uttered the formulay “You say that she is not 
guilty, and that is the verdict of you all.” Mr. Justice 
Manley held up his hand imperatively; and the ushers 
shouted -silence, which was preserved in coui’t, although 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS, 147 

the roar of the crowd outside rendered his lordship's metal- 
lic notes barely audible. 

“ You have had a long and responsible duty/' he said; 
‘‘ and I will give orders that you are exempted from 
further service at this court for a very considerable 
period. " 

The jury bowed their acknowledgments and scrambled 
out of the box. The judge hurried away through his pri- 
vate door. I turned my eyes to the dock, but the acquitted 
woman had disappeared. I looked into the well. Mr. 
Jackson had vanished also. Then, to avoid the crowd, I 
clambered up on the judge's bench, and retired to the rob- 
ing-room. There was Mr. Jackson at the door. I shook 
hands with him cordially. 

“ Our client wishes me to thank you, sir," he said. ‘‘ I 
wish to congratulate you on the most brilliant and power- 
ful speech I have ever heard. I will do myself the honor 
of seeing your clerk to-morrow morning." And Mr. Jack- 
son bowed his departure. 

I unrobed hurriedly, and was driven off not to the Wind- 
ham, where I should have been pestered with questions, 
but to a restaurant, where nobody could come and inter- 
rupt me or bother me with his own criticisms and opinions. 
Then I solemnly and in silence enjoyed an excellent dinner 
and a bottle of burgundy. An immense weight was off my 
mind, and I was proportionately relieved. And then — so 
wayward are the caprices of reaction — I went round to a 
friend's club, where I was little known, and played a game 
or two at pool, with varying luck. For, now that the thing 
was over, my hand was not as steady as it might have been. 

The pool finished, I lighted a cigar, bade my friend 
good-night, sauntered back to Chapel Street, and went to 
bed most prosaically. My only interruption was on the 
doorstep, where my landlord was waiting to catch me. 

‘‘ All London's talking of it, sir," said that gentleman. 

They're crazy about it. I humbly offer you my con- 


148 JACK AND THREE JILES. 

gratulations. What time in the morning would you like to 
be called?^^ 

My landlord was, as a rule, a most undemonstrative man, 
and his kindly thoughtfulness so affected me that I could 
scarcely answer him, but I managed to name my usual 
hour, and went upstairs. And so ended what had certain- 
ly been, one way or another, the most eventful day in a 
not altogether uneventful life. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

When I woke in the morning, which was at about a 
quarter to nine — ^for I had slept rather later than usual — I 
still felt a little played out, more with triumph, I believe, 
and the reaction* of it, than with exertion. * 

I rang the bell and my landlord made his appearance 
with a number of letters, and the announcement that my 
clerk was waiting. My clerk brought good news. There 
were only two matters that day which had required my per- 
sonal attention, and he had already adjourned one of them 
by consent, and handed over the other to a brother bar- 
rister, with whom I frequently exchanged work. Thus, 
then, my day was clear, and I resolved that I would make 
an absolute holiday of it. 

With this virtuous resolve upon me, I ensconced myself 
comfortably in the pillows, and began to open my letters. 
First I took those which were obviously circulars or on 
business, looked at them and tossed them aside. This left 
a remainder of only three. One was from Mr. Justice 
Manley, marked Strictly Private,'^ congratulating me on 
my success, but concluding with the emphatic words, “ All 
the same, young gentleman, you cheated justice. An- 
other, long and passionate, but very sensible, was from my 
client herself. It was the sort of letter a young woman 
might be expected to write under such circumstances, and 
concluded by begging that I would not trouble myself to 


JA.CK AKD THREE JILLS. 


149 


answer it. The third was, as I had seen from the address, 
from Susan Brabazon, and I turned myself round in bed 
to read it leisurely, for she must have sat up till late to 
write it, as there were many pages of it. 

It began by telling me what I had not known— that she 
had been unable to resist coming over from Nice on pur- 
pose to hear the case, and through the city influence of her 
bankers, had managed to secure a seat on the bench 
throughout its whole course, although, perhaps, I had not 
noticed her. Then she expressed her opinion on the case 
itself, which was very shrewd and clever, but which I need 
not give in detail. Evidently she was of opinion that strict- 
ly legal justice had been baffled. Then followed some 
pleasant reminiscences of our old days in Bayswater and 
elsewhere, and then came the postscript, in which is always 
to be found the object of a woman^’s letter. 

“I am in town for a few days, and as I have paid you 
the compliment of giving several of these to yourself, I 
wish you would manage to give one of those that are left to 
me. Let us spend a day after the old fashion. You shall 
drive me out somewhere into the country, and we will dine 
at a road-side inn off roast fowl and potatoes and apple 
tart, and other such rural fare. I am hungry for an inn 
with a sign-board flapping over the door-way, and a touch 
of rustic simplicity about it. 

The letter was dated from Claridge^s, a very few min- 
utes^ walk from my lodgings, and I at once sent round a 
messenger with a note to say that I would come as soon as 
I was dressed, and would drive her out when she pleased. 

‘‘We will have,^^ said I, as I picked out a comfortable 
tweed suit, with appropriately countrified additions, “ a 
rustic day of it;^^ and having finished my toilet, I at once 
hurried round to some stables in Piccadilly where I was 
well known, and selected as neat a tandem and as com- 
fortable a dog-cart as could be put together. With this 
equipage, and my groom with Napoleonically folded ai-ms 


150 


JACK AlTD THE EE JILLS. 


on the back seat, looking as if the whole turn-out, includ- 
ing myself, belonged to him, and he had yesterday snatched 
the verdict in person, I trotted round and drew up at the 
door of Claridge^s in the very best Essex style — and most 
Essex men know how to drive. 

Mrs. Brabazon did not keep me waiting in the coffee- 
room three minutes. She hurried down,, charmingly 
dressed in dark-gray silk, a long otter-skin jacket, gauntlet 
gloves, and a compact little black bonnet of the style which 
will hand down to immortality the name of Maria Hamm. 

At her entry the waiter conveniently and discreetly with- 
drew. There happened to be no one else in the room, and 
she seized me by both hands and gave me a most hearty 
kiss. 

“You did it splendidly, Jack,^^ she said; “splendidly! 
She was guilty, of course, though I mustn^t ask you, hut I 
declare you almost made me believe her innocent. At all 
events, you proved that there wasnT evidence on which to 
hang a — well, let us say a tomcat, and you look as fresh 
after it all as if nothing had happened. It^s wonderful! I 
suppose it^s practice. 

These were genuine compliments, and I liked them. 
They made me feel, as I told her, several inches taller, and 
proportionately important. Then we went through our 
paraphernalia, as all travelers should, and we sallied into 
the street. My groom was standing at the leader’s head, 
an assistant hostler from the hotel yard was by the wheeler. 

Mrs. Brabazon was in her seat in a moment. I followed 
her, gathered up the reins, gave my whip a fresh double 
thong, worthy of the Yorkshire road, and away we went, 
my groom clambering up behind, and then assuming an 
air which seemed to say “ find a better turn-out than this 
if you can. ” 

We rattled pleasantly through the streets, until we came 
into the open country, and we shaped our course for a 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


151 


pleasant little village which I knew in Hertfordshire, not 
many miles beyond Hendon, with its so-called lake. The 
place I selected was not altogether inappropriate, as it was 
many years ago the scene of a murder which set not Lon- 
don only, hut England, and not England nnly, hut Europe, 
talking and wondering. I mean the murder of Weare, the 
gambler, by his companions. Hunt, Thurtell and Probert. 
The place is called Ellstree, and near it is a little wood, 
exquisite in the summer-time, hut bearing the unidylhc 
name of Boreham. 

Although only the beginning of February, the sun was 
shiniug brightly, the roads were dry an^ hard, and the 
horses^ feet rattled on them. In the leafless trees and 
along the leafless hedges the birds were noisy, and now and 
again we could hear the querulous cackle of a blackbird 
scuttling along the hedge, disturbed by our clatter, or in 
the fallows the cheep of the partridge and the shrill note 
of the corncrake. 

We passed neither magpie, crow, nor any other bird of* 
evil omen, and I never even now can remember in my life 
a brighter, happier drive. Everything was perfect in its 
way — the weather, the scenery, and, although I say it, the 
Napoleonic groom, and the horses, who had evidently 
worked together before and were thoroughly accustomed 
to each other. 

We pulled up at the door of the Red Lion, and the land- 
lord hurried out, as hefltted the importance of a visit from 
persons of superior quality. He could give us, he ex- 
plained, a dinner which he thought we should really like. 
We must not think that the resources of his house were 
limited. He could produce spring soup, eels, a mutton 
cutlet, which we should find it hard to beat, a couple of his 
own spring chickens, with mushrooms and pastry. And 
he had some wine which he could recommend. He knew 
what was proper^ for he had been a gentleman^s servant 
hims elf, and his bouse was much frequented in the sum- 


152 


JACK AND THKEE JILLS. 


mer. Might I leave things to him^ and at what hour would 
we like dinner? 

I named the time when twilight would he closing, and 
then Susan and I started for a stroll along the Hertford- 
shire roads, which were dry and hard under-foot, and as yet 
innocent of dust. 

For awhile we talked about everything — about the great 
case, and the judge (with whom Susan had fallen in love), 
and the counsel engaged in it; about the latest burlesque, 
and the latest novel; about Nice, where Susan had been 
stopping, and Monte Carlo, where she had been playing 
carefully and l6>sing steadily. Then we talked about the 
old hoarding-house days at Bayswater, and she broke out 
into a laugh so loud and merry that it almost made the few 
echoes in the neighborhood ring. 

“ I have something to tell you about that,^^ she said. 

“ What is it?^^ I asked. 

‘‘ I will tell you after dinner. It is too good to be told 
now. 

Then, as the time was drawing in, we sauntered back to 
the inn. The rustics in that neighborhood are doltish, and 
we were unknown; and I have some sort of a dim recollec- 
tion that we walked hand in hand like children going to 
church. I know that we made a short cut through some 
fields, which involved one stile and two swing gates, and 
that I sternly exacted toll at each. There was something 
Theocritean about the whole day and its surroundings, and 
so at last we found ourselves at the inn. 

How we loitered over our dinner; how thoroughly we en- 
joyed it; how we chattered; how we had the landlord in, 
and complimented him, and made him drink an immense 
tumbler of his wine and light one of my cigars, and give us 
his views on the ministry and the agricultural crisis; how 
we had the tandem brought round; how, when we were 
seated, the landlord's wife made her appearance with a 
bunch of early violets and small glasses of hot inilk punch, 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


153 


breVed from a special recipe of her grandmother’s, and 
warranted to keep out the evening damp; how we rattled 
off, and how merrily we howled along the road, downhill 
for almost its entire extent, till we drew up at the portals 
of Claridge’s, are things I can not tell in detail; but it was 
a happy day, and will remain written as such forever on the 
remembering tablets of my mind.” 

Come in for a minute,” said Susan, and in I went. 

To-morrow is Sunday,” she continued. * ‘‘ You can 
not be wanted in court to-morrow; come and dine with me. 
Come early, and take me for a walk m the park first.. I 
want to keep you out of the, company of fiatterers and time- 
servers, or else this success of yours will be turning your 
young head. ” 

‘‘ Well,” I laughed, I will be here at three, and we 
will go for a. walk if it’s fine, or I will sit in-doors with you 
if it is wet. . By the way, you have not told me about your 
joke in reference to the Bayswater establishment. ” 

She burst out laughing again. 

“ A demain. It is a full-flavored tale. I will tell it you 
in the park if it is fine, and here if it is wet. Now, go 
away with you, and be punctual to-m#row. ” 

‘‘And I too,” I added, “have something to teU you 
about myself — something really most important. ” 

“ What is it. Jack?” she asked, with an immediate 
change in her voice. 

“ I will keep it till to-morrow, after you have told me 
your own story. If it does not astonish you, why, as the 
elder Mr. Weller observed, ‘ I am one Dutchman and you 
are another,’ and that’s just all about it. ” 

“I am no Dutchman, Mr. Severn,” she retorted, draw- 
ing herself up to her full height, with a mock air of injured 
dignity that was very comical. 

“ I never said you were,” I answered. “ On the con- 
trary, I know better. ” 


154 


JACK AND THKEE JILLS. 


You ought to have your face slapped for yom* imperti- 
nence. Be punctual to-morrow by way of penance. 

And so I strolled round to Chapel Street, and found, 
among other things, a telegram from Paris. It was from 
Mr. Cyrus Napoleon Washington Q. Rock, who was so fond 
of his names that they appeared in the missive in full. 
The body of the communication was as follows: 

Magnificently done, my son. Everybody here wild 
about it. If you were a horn citizen we should run you for 
president. Elizabeth, agrees. We are both chirpy. Write 
to us, and expect letter. Paris good enough, hut not a 
patch on Saratoga. Everybody rather English here, ex- 
cept us Yanks. Kindest regards and congratulations from 
both of us.-^^- 

‘‘He is an old trump, I said, as I clambered into my 
bed, and what was more, I meant it. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

“The next day being Sunday, as Robinson Crusoe 
would, have it in his d|ary, I made my appearance at Cla- 
ridge^s at the appointed hour. It happened to be a very 
beautiful day indeed, and Susan and I proceeded at once to 
those glorious gardens of the Botanical Society in the 
Regent^s Park, where we wandered about on the thick vel- 
vety grass, which by this time had lost its morning damp- 
ness, for the sun was shining brightly. And we strayed 
through the tropical house, where the immense bananas 
and other palms tower up over your head, and we visited 
the water-lily house and inspected the gigantic leaves of 
the Victoria lily. 

The great chai:m of the Regent^s Park, and ^ of the 
Botanical Gardens in particular, has always been to my 
mind the enormous number of birds to be found there un- 
suspected in the center of London^s wilderness of houses. 


JACK AND THEEE JILLS. 


155 


I believe there is hardly a British bird wanting, except per- 
haps such rare things as the golden eagle or the night heron, 
of local varieties, such as the Cornish chough and the Eoy- 
ston crow. 

As we walked up and down, the little nut-hatch, with its 
bright eye and lissom neck, darted about the bark; great 
thrushes hopped about almost under our very feet; the 
wood-pigeons answered one another in the elms; and upon 
the ornamental water, utterly regardless of the native and 
acclimatized swans, geese, and ducks, a pair of saucy dab- 
chicks were bobbing up and* down, and scuttering to and 
fro like school-boys just turned out of school. 

It was like a glorious patch from the heart of a forest 
transplanted by magic to the center of London, and dressed 
with the gardener^s most consummate skill. If you want 
to see the place at its worst, go when marquees have been 
erected and bunting is flying, and the so-called lean monde 
of London is en fUe, and three or four bands of the house- 
hold troops are making evening hideous with valses and 
operatic selections. To-day we had the place practically 
to ourselves. 

'^Jack,^^ she said, ‘^business before pleasure, as the 
school-master said who always did his flogging in the quar- 
ter of an hour before dinner. Let me hear what you have 
to say. 

I felt a little awkward, but the thing had to be done, so 
I told her as briefly and yet as fully as I could about my 
engagement to Miss Eock. 

Do you care for her, Jack?^^ 

Yes, I honestly think I do, as much as I am ever likely 
or diould have been ever likely to care for any woman in 
the world except yourself. She is good-looking, naturally 
clever, without being brilliant, has an admirable temper, 
so far as I can judge, is fond of animals and treats them 
kindly, which is always a good sign in a woman, and, as I 
need not tell you, has any amount of money. Eock, her 


156 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


father is shrewd but genuine, and his good qualities are 
very sterling. 

“ I believe you are right/ ^ she answered. I happen to 
know some people who have met them both in the States 
and here, and who have all given me pretty much the same 
account. For Mr. Rock, having made his pile and having 
reahzed it and stuck to it, is more or less a marked man 
wherever he goes. ” 

‘‘He is not at all ostentatious about his pile, I an- 
swered, rather deprecatingly. “ He is as simple as a school- 
boy.- 

“ All Americans of the true grit are. It is your shoddy 
man, only fit for ‘ down-city,^ who gives himself airs and 
puts on side. Whatever the Rocks may be, they are not 
shoddy.'’^ This opinion I most cordially indorsed. “ And 
Miss Rock, too,- she continued, “ is good-looking I know, 
for I have seen her photographs in any number. They 
were conspicuous at Walery^s and Disderi^s; and 1 hear she 
is accomphshed. - 

“ Riiher suy natui’ally clever,- I replied. 

“She is th:i too, but she is accomplished as well. 
Americc,ns are immensely particular over the education of 
their children, far more than we in England are. Well, 
Jg,ck, you have done wisely in every way, end 1 congratu- 
late you with all my heart. Yours were capital pigs, no 
doubt, if one may be vulgar in this lovely place, bat you 
have managed to bring them to a very excellent market. — 

I donT ask my reader to believe it, but I am satisfied in 
my own mind that Susan Brabazon was perfectly sincere in 
her congratulations. 

“ And what was it you had to tell mo about Bayswater?^' 
I asked, feeling it time to turn the conversation. 

“ Ah, I must tell you; and it^s a story only to be told in- 
the open. I shall laugh over it till the day of my death. 
Well, I went round to the old boarding-house to ask after 
^ stray volume or two; I had left them by accident. I had 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


167 


Bruno with, me, an immense St. Bernard that I have lately 
bought, the size of a calf, hut as gentle as a kitten. I 
purchased him in the Lower Alps; and I had with me a 
rather formidable dog-whip, which I carry for show rather 
than use, and it has a swivel in the butt which makes it 
handy as a lash.^^ 

^ I know the kind of instrument, I replied; “it is 
made of any number of strings, and knotted hke a Russian 
knout. 

“ You are quite right, she answered, half choking with 
laughter. “ Well, I went round, and old Bruno lay down 
on the steps outside, and in I went, and while I was wait- 
ing in the frowsy old dining-room who should come in but 
the M^Lachlan in all her war-paint. 

“ And what did you say to her?^^ 

“ Why, I took with me her precious epistle to Miss Viv- 
ian, so I pulled it out and asked her as gravely as a judge 
whether that was her name and ^ her handwriting. She. 
turned as red as a peony and then as white as a sheet. 
Then she pulled herself together and said: ^ Yes, madame, 
it is; and in doing my duty, I hope I have been an humble 
instrument in the hands of "Providence for doing good. ^ 
Well, Jack, her impudence put me in such a rage that I 
felt the strength of a giant on me. I hauled her over my 
knees like a naughty child, held her firm in spite of all her 
wrigglings and squirmings^ and gave her a good half dozen 
with Brunovs whip. Her language, when she had shaken 
down her skirts, was such as I can not repeat. ‘ Swear 
away, madame,^ said I, as coolly as need be; Mt will take 
more than all your swearing to rub out those marks; and 
recollect that if you go to a police magistrate for redress, 
you will have to show them to him in open court, which I 
should think your old-established maiden modesty would 
revolt from. If you write any more letters about me, and 
I hear of it, I will come round and repeat the dose I 
^ I laughed till the tears roUed down my cheeks. 


158 


JACK AND THKEE JILLS. 


And what did she do?^^ 

“ Welh you see, Jack, my child, she couldn^t exactly sit 
down — I doubt if she^ll achieve that operation for some few 
days to come, for I must almost have flayed her. But she 
waddled out of the room with as much clannish dignity as 
was possible under the circumstances, stumbling over the 
maid-of-all-work, whose eye, I suppose, had been glued to 
the key-hole the whole time. The two sprawled together 
on the mat. Besides, just as I was going out of the door, 
that good-natured book-maker came in and asked me how I 
was and what I was laughing at, and admired my ‘‘ dawg. 
So I told him I was well, thanked him for his compliment 
to Bruno, and advised him to ask Sarah, or else Miss 
M^Lachlan herself, what had happened, for I could not 
exactly tell him myself. He went in with a broad grin on 
his features, and of course the story will be all over the 
neighborhood. I fancy the M ^Lachlan will have to seek 
fresh fields and pastures new as soon as she is able to dis- 
pense with the diachylon and to get about again. 

The broad humor of the scene was so irresistibly comic 
that we both burst out into peals of laughter, which fairly 
scared the water-fowl. 

‘‘ Well, Jack, that was business, and as weVe no more 
business to talk over, I vote for pleasure. I canT ask to 
be one of your wife^s bride-maids, I^m afraid, but there^’s. 
no reason why we shouldnT have a good evening of it to- 
night. I leave for Rome to-morrow. Let us kill time be- 
fwe dinner, for the grass is getting damp.'’^ 

So we killed time for the rest of that day very innocent- 
ly. First we drove straight to the Langham, where we had 
the orthodox tea. Then we made our way to Claridge^s, 
where I sat with her until dinner-time. We were waited 
upon at dinner by a gentleman, with assistants under him, 
of course, who must have somehow missed his mark in life. 
Kature clearly intended him, from his solemn features, 
down to his portly chest and statues(^ue calves, for a shovel 


.TACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


159 


iiat. And his demeanor was archiepiscopally grave and 
impressive. 

Dinner over, this functionary — for waiter I can not bring 
myself to call him in cold blood — reverentially, and almost 
sacrificially, placed the claret jug on a small table before 
the fire, arranged the dessert, and retired. 

It is Dickens who says that a waiter never either runs or 
walks, but that he possesses a mysterious power of skim- 
ming in and out of the room which is altogether unknown 
to other mortals. This power our waiter possessed in an 
almost supernatural degree. 

Then Susan betook herself to the piano, and half played, 
half improvised to me while I smoked. She had an ex- 
quisite touch, and a natural genius for music. And then 
we sat talking on, not about anything in particular, until 
the clocks struck twelve, when we parted, after the fashion 
of sworn brothers and sisters, but as natural brothers and 
sisters very seldom do part in this world, so far as my ex- 
perience goes. 

'‘It has been such a happy day, said Susan, “that I 
shall go to sleep at once instead of ruining my eyes by 
reading in bed. 

“And I,^^ I replied, “will be a good boy, and follow 
your example. 

I was as good as my word; but I rose next morning 
early, and after my canter in the Row, stopped at Solo- 
mon^s, and then left my card at Claridge^s with a pretty 
bouquet of exotics, orchids, and early blossoms from the 
Riviera, with a short note to say that I had kept my word 
and slept soundly, not even dreaming of the M^Lachlan. 


CHAPTER XXm 

I SAW Susan off by the evening mail from Victoria, and 
being now entirely alone in London, reverted to my regular 
work. The latter, familiar as I now was with all routine 


160 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


and with any point of law likely to arise, was yet hard 
enough, by reason of its very bulk. Besides, I had to at- 
tend in Parliament for the divisions, and occasionally to 
speak upon any legal matter that might crop up. Thus I 
came to make the House my club, and a very pleasant club 
it is — the most comfortable and luxurious certainly, if not 
the most select, in London. 

The Rocks had gone to the Riviera, where they were to 
stay till Easter, that we might then meet in Paris. Eliza- 
beth wrote to me, I think more or less every day. I, with 
a touch of business m my habits, wrote every day at greater 
or less length — usually less — -and took care to keep her 
posted up in my doings. 

But my life was matter of sufficiently eventful routine 
until Easter set me free, and then I hurried olf to Paris to 
meet mj fiancee and her father, taking up my quarters at 
Hotel Meurice. The Rocks had not as yet arrived, but 
were expected at the Grand. 

I idled away my time until they came. To idle in Paris 
is a science yielding extremely pleasant, if not exactly 
profitable, results. My tastes were simple and sedate. I 
made a few purchases, mostly cheap ones, out of curiosity 
and idleness more than because I wanted the things. I 
went one evening to the Hippodrome; saw Bibel banging 
his lions about, and actually persuaded him to do me the 
honor of having supper with me. 

He was much, poor fellow, after the best type of our En- 
glish prize-fighters; very modest and reticent about his 
prowess, but evidently proud of it, and as simple as a 
school-boy. He left a singular, but very lasting, impres- 
sion on me. 

Then, too, I a bit astonished the Parisians by driving 
about tandem in my best Essex style. The French are 
now admirable four-in-hand whips — as good, indeed, as our- 
selves; but for tandem with a lightly running dog-cart 
they seem somehow not to have the nerve. 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


Ifil 

I had not been thus killing time for three days before 
the Rocks arrived, having duly notified me of their coming 
by any number of telegrams. And then we had what Mr. 
Rock called “ a time of it,^^ and ‘‘ went through over Paris 
fair and straight and square. 

As everybody must know what this means, I need hardly 
dwell upon the details. There is always a youthful ele- 
ment in Americans, especially among those who have made 
their fortime early in life, which asserted itself very strong- 
ly in Mr. Rock, cropping up to the surface like rich metal 
through quartz, and bursting out in an irrepressible Jet at a 
moment^s notice, like the petroleum with which he filled 
his tubs. 

He was decorous, of course, as became' the father of a 
marriageable, and, in fact, an engaged daughter, but he 
was brimming over with wild fun and animal spirits, wliich 
with his native shrewdness made him intensely amusing. 

We had, as he himself emphatically said, all the fun of 
the fair — the World^s Fair, Paris, wliich so strangely re- 
sembles in many respects the Vanity Fair, of John Bunyan. 

But the days, although busy, were very pleasant; and 
what I may honestly and straightforwardly call my attach- 
ment for Elizabeth Rpck grew in strength continually. 
She was then a charming girl, as she is now a charming 
woman, and it was a pleasure to be with her, which is 
more than you can say of many of her sex, as those who 
are the best able to judge are usually the first to admit. 

Mr. Rock^s experiences of Monte Carlo were peculiarly 
amusing and edifying, and I can hardly help giving them, 
with some condensation, in more or less his own words. 

“ Wal, squire,'’^ said he, “ I\e played poker and euchre, 
likewise monte. I\e played them in Bowery, and on 
Mississippi steamers. Likewise IVe shot the ti^er at 
Trisco, where every man went to the saloon with his shoot- 
ing-irons handy. At your Monte Carlo it^s all straight and 
respectable. No shooting-irons there; but, jihew! they 


102 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


play high, they do^ in spite of the limit. There was as 
Austrian prince there who planked down his dollars like a 
prince. The run favored him, squire. He. realized con- 
siderably, and he went away with joy and peace in his 
countenance. Then besides the regular lot you always see 
round any green cloth wherever the location is sufficiently 
aristocratic, there was a Jew with a face like a vulture, 
who always went the maximum. They told me he was a 
cent per center over in your gay metropolis. Well, sir, he 
did not realize, but he did not much seem to mind, and for 
all I know to the contrary, he^s punting there still. The 
occupation seemed to soothe him. Then there was your 
humble servant. Well, sir, I punted a bit for the honor of 
my country, and so did Elizabeth, and how do you suppose 
we stood at the finish? 

“ Lost?'^ I inquired. 

“ Ho, Mister Attorney; no, sir. Between us we realized 
the stakes. We paid our bill at the H6tel de Paris, and all 
our incidentals, and we came away with a trifie over five 
thousand dollars, playing moderartely. So I reckon we 
weren’t exactly skinned. There’s pickings on our carcasses 
yet. Ho, squire, if you don’t care to win one way or the 
other, not even for the fun of the thing, you generally do 
win. At least that’s my experience. The luck leaves you 
when you have to plank your dollars in aimest.” 

I expressed my concurrence in these maxims as being 
thoroughly philosophical, and Mr. Rock received my con- 
gratulations with solemn complacency. 

‘‘ And now, squire,” he said, “ we’ll have a quiet night 
of it, unless you are of the contrary disposition. I’ve had 
enough of racket for a week or two. It’s only five o’clock. 
We’ll dine first, go to the. opera afterward, and wind up at 
the Caf6 de la Paix. It’s near our hotel, and the victuals 
are good.” 

There was no gainsaying these hospitable proposals, and 
we carried them out to the letter. Elizabeth, I remember. 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


163 


wore a white dress, with a brooch, necklace, and a bracelet 
of magnificent black pearls. Mr. Rock was the American 
citizen, with what he called the ‘‘hammer-claw^’ and a 
huge lay-down collar, and a cataract of black satin fall- 
ing down his chest, and fastened by a diamond brooch over 
which his clean-shaven, clear-cut, pallid features, set, as it 
were, in his long black hair, were almost ghastly in their 
total absence of anything like color. 

It was a pleasant enough night — I ought indeed to say 
more than pleasant, and after we had deposited Ehzabeth 
at the Grand, Mr. Rock and I smoked some of his cigars, 
which were genuine Oubas of the Rothschild brand, and 
drank juleps of his own mixing, and Hstened to the plash- 
ing of the fountain until an early hour. 

“ I expect big news to-morrow, senator,” said my future 
father-in-law as I left; “ they’ve cabled me to expect ^im- 
portant advices; and my gell’ll be tired. Guess I’ll look 
you up, with or without her as the case may be, about two 
o’clock. There’s one blessing about oil; it runs of itself. 
You can reckon on it for a moral, else these cussed cables 
would have made me a bit oneasy. ” 

At the idea of anything occurring that could possibly 
afford Mr. Rock grounds for “ oneasiness, ” we both 
laughed, but yet Mr. Rock was evidently grave and 
thoughtful, and shook hands with me as if he were glad 
upon the whole that the day was over. 

I turned out on to the boulevards, walked to Meurice’s 
and was soon fast asleep, without the least anxiety on my 
part as to what the to-morrow might or might not bring 
forth. 

Next morning I refreshed myself with a brisk stroll in 
the Champs Elys^es, breakfasted at Bignon’s, read the 
latest procurable copy of the “ Times,” and then walked 
back to my hotel to write some letters. 

It was a lovely morning. Rain had fallen before sunrise 
and was still glistening on the trees. The Paris sparrows 


164 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


were chirping as noisily as if they were waiting their old 
friend of the Tuilleries^ and eager to dive into his pockets, 
perch on his shoulders, and peck crumbs out of his hand. 

I purchased Zola^s latest — not that I care for that talent- 
ed author, but out of curiosity to see to what further 
lengths he had permitted himself to venture, and then 
loitered back to Meurice^s. 

I was lazily interested in a more than usually fetid chap- 
ter when Mr. Kock was announced. I could see at once 
that something had happened to strangely disturb liim. 
His long and pale face was longer and paler than ever, and 
his solemn expression more solemn. 

He shook hands gravely, but without any cordiality that 
I could detect, and then plunged himself into an arm- 
chair, and threw up his feet on the table. I waited, won- 
dering what all this might mean. 

I guess, squire, said he, in a someAvhat parched tone 
of voice, “ I^U put myself outside a flash of lightning. My 
throat ^s as dry as a copper-smelting stack. 

The flash of lightning having been produced, in the 
shape of a caraffe of cognac, Mr. Eock, to my surprise put 
himself rapidly outside several flashes in rapid succes- 
sion. 

Cognac, said he, as you get it in Paris, is like 
Ecederer as you get it in St. Petersburg. It^s almost too 
good a drink for sintul mortals. But I want it this morn- 
ing, as sartain as my name is Cyrus Napoleon Washington 
Q. Kock.^^ 

And he took another flash. Then he expanded his chest, 
and took up his parable. 


CHAPTER XXVm. 

Squire,"" Mr. Rock said, Pm no good on the stump. 
I am no orator as Brutus is, but as you know me, squire, 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


165 


a plain blunt man that love my friends. And so, squire, I 
am not going to see you let into the hole. Not for Cyrus 
Napoleon. Squire, no man was ever so eternally and all- 
firedly busted up as is your humble servant at this jimcture 
of events. Squire, my wells are petered out. They air 
run dry. Look at this here cable from my agents. And 
he handed me a long cablegram which sufficiently bore out 
his assertion. 

The wells had ceased to yield: The supply of oil had 
stopped altogether. Nothing came up but sand and slime, 
which choked the pipes. The men had all vamoosed.'’^ 
Everytliing at the wells was deserted, and Eockburg had 
become in a week a Tadmor in the Wilderness. 

I expressed my sorrow and surprise as well as I could, 
but suggested that it was fortunate that Mr. Kock had still 
his little pile. 

‘‘ Yes, squire,’^ said he, that would be fortunate, if I 
still possessed it. It would, as you say, be a consolation in 
the midst of this eternal smash. But, squire, things never 
come single. You remember your great London crash — 
the memorable black Monday — when, to the astonishment 
of the city, the house of Overend & Gurney did not draw 
up its shutters and open its doors as per usual. Or, if you 
do not remember it, you have heard of it. Wal, squire, if 
you look at your ‘ Times " to-day you will see, when it 
comes in, that the house of Day, Bold & Co. has collapsed, 
and that its creditors are expected to realize something like 
a red cent, in the spread eagle. I could have stood either 
of these two facers singly. But the two of them, one fair 
and square in each eye, has pole-axed yours obediently. I 
here, squire, just a few dollars left here to my credit at 
Lafitte^s, and T must pay up my hotel bill and make 
tracks. * 

And he took some more brandy, gulping it down with- 
out any water. I had never seen a man drink brandy so 
recklessly before without the least effect being produced 


166 


JACiK. AXD THREE JILLS. 


upon him by it. He took it as if it were lemonade^ and it 
certainly seemed to steady him. 

It is bad news, indeed, Mr. Rock,^^ I said, ‘‘ and from 
all I know of oil, I am afraid it^s hopeless, and the oil is 
more likely to run again than the Day, Bold & Co. to 
liquidate favorably. Business first, Mr. Rock. Consider 
me your banker for the present. I can^t draw to an un- 
limited amount, but I can draw for a couple of thousand 
any day without troubling my head to consult my banker^s. ’’ 

‘‘You are very good, squire. We shall be leaving Paris 
immediately. Of course, I shall realize my effects here — 
the tomfooleries I and my gell have been amusing our- 
selves with^but a few dollars from you to help us back 
across the pond may prove acceptable. And they shall be 
repaid, squire. But now, squire, he continued, very 
seriously, “ there^s nother matter. This marriage between 
you and my gell must, be broken off. It was another 
thing when she had a pile. Now there isnT a shin plaster 
knocking round to buy hair-pins; and we Rocks are too 
proud to let our gells marry above their pecuniary station. 
Elizabeth concurs with me in them sentiments, and we 
shall have to wish you an adoo,"*^ and he gulped down 
some more brandy and rose to his feet. 

“We are shifting from the Grand, and Elizabeth is at 
this moment looking out for diggings somewhere down by 
the Jardin des Plantes. It’s, handy to Notre Dame, and 
she likes the music there. They’ll take in my letters at 
the Grand.” 

I had always considered myself a man of resources, but 
I did not see my way to expostulate with simple Spartan 
resolution of this kind. I felt that it would have been 
hopeless, so I said: 

“ Well, Mr. Rock, as you will not be lea^ring Paris for a 
day or two yet, we needn’t talk business any more at pres- 
ent. If I can be of any use to you in the States I’ll come 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


If)? 

over, but I fancy there no flesh on the bones to be quar- 
reled over. ’’ 

Not a scrap, squire,’^ assented Mr. Rock. 

“ However, Ifll come over if you like. It rests with you. 
And now would you like some more cognac?^^ 

“ No, thank you, squire. I\e drank more cognac this 
morning than theyfll pump ile at Rockburg for centuries 
to come. But Ifll pull myself together with a cigar, if 
youfll let me. I have a few of my own left,'^ he added. 
And he produced a case of colossal regalias. ‘‘ My gell, 
squire, took a fancy to this case. I didn^t like it so well 
as the one you gave me, but I carried it to-day to please 
her;'"- 

It was a curious piece of filagree work in oxydized silver, 
with a design chased upon it which for a moment puzzled 
me. 

“ That design, Mr. 'Severn, is an allegory. It repre- 
sents Moses striking the rock and making the water gush 
out. I thought it was appropriate when I ordered it to be 
executed. It is symbolical of Providence guiding me, 
Cyrus Rock,, to strike ile. But somehow the parallel 
donT seem to hold." 

I could have burst out laughing were it not that Mr. 
Rock spoke with such deep feeling and evident sincerity. 

“ And now, Mr. Rock," I said, ‘‘ you had better stop in 
England. Surely you will do so as soon as your affairs in 
the United States are wound up. There will be plenty of 
room for you in our house — I mean, of course, Elizabeth's 
house and mine; and on the whole we shall be happier than 
if we had to cross the Atlantic every time we wanted to see 
each other. Besides, it will be pleasant for us to be all to- 
gether when I fix upon a little box in the country, which I 
have not yet done." 

‘‘Ah! There we come to it, Mr. Severn. There must 
be no mistake here. This match is off. My gell is too 
pi'oud, and so am I, to have it said that we allowed you to 


168 


JACK AND THKEE JILLS. 


marry a pauper. I quite uuderstand, as a gentleman^ your 
sense of honor stands you to the contract, and no doubt 
people will think the better of you for it, as they ought to 
do. But that kind of feeling must not be mixed up in 
business. I have my sense of honor, squire, and so has my 
gell, quite as strong as any Britisher, without intending 
anything personal to yourself. And it isn^t what people 
would think of you, but it^s what people would think of us, 
and say of us too. No, Mr. Severn, our two minds are 
fixed square. And the marriage is as dead as my wells. 
I^’m, sorry for it. But it^s a plain, simple duty, and there ^s 
no going back from it; and between Cyrus Rock and his 
duty not even the president of the United States shall put 
his veto. 

Mr. Rock seemed thoroughly in earnest, and I felt that it 
would have been idle for the present to contradict him. 

‘‘ Well, anyhow, you will dine with me quietly to-night 
at Bignon^’s. We can have a private room.^^ 

“ I will come myself, squire, and Elizabeth shall come if 
she is equal to it; but I guess she will be pretty considera- 
bly fatigued, as she has been round to all tjae .shops this 
morning trying to get them to take back the tomfooleries 
we\e purchased of them, at their own valuation, and her 
legs ^11 be weary with the tramp, strong as she is, for it^s a 
stiffish round. 

“ Well,^'’ said I, “ I shall wait here till you come any- 
way. I must insist on your bringing Elizabeth, Mr. Rock, 
if you have to carry her yourself. You must argue it with 
'' her."^ 

“ Wal, squire, you shall have your way; and now Ull 
bid you good-morning. "" And after another immense dose 
of brandy, and a grip of the hand that would have done 
credit to a blacksmith, Mr. Rock stalked down the stair- 
case. 

I put on my hat and walked slowly out into the gardens 
of the Tiiileries. After all, what did it matter to me, sorry 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


169 


US 1 was for Mr. Kock, if I could only persuade Elizabeth 
to change her mind. I have never cared for her so much 
as now that I saw the chance of losing her. I had been 
ready to give up anything for her, even my profession; and 
it would be quixotism on her part not to give up a really 
foolish question of pride for me. I could not see it in any 
other point of view. The more I looked at matters, the 
more I became convinced that I was in the right, and that 
Mr. Cyrus Eock was in the wrong. 

This is a way with young men, from which I was by no 
means ‘ exempt. But I resolved that I would let matters 
rest for some hours at any rate, if not for some days. 

So we dined that evening at Bignon^'s, and the catastro- 
phe of the petered' out wells was not so much as alluded 
to. Mr. Eock was appareled as usual, with the exception 
of the diamond in his cravat and his repeater and chain, all 
of which articles were conspicuously absent. 

Elizabeth wore a plain and simple dress, with jet brooch 
and solitaires, and was sheltered from the evening air by a 
dark cloth jacket. There was the usual chatter about 
things in general, and I could not but admire the fortitude 
with which both the father and daughter bore so crushing 
a reverse. 

I walked part of the way home with them, and bade 
them good-night at an omnibus station, from which they 
took their departure in the direction of the Quartier Latin. 

Then I strolled for awhile on the quays, ‘‘ and so,'’^ as 
Pepys has it, to Meurice^s and to bed, where I fell asleep, 
determined to have my own way, but feeling very distinctly 
that the Eocks were awkward customers, and that all my 
work was cut out for me. 

As I have said, I had never cared so much for my fiancee 
as I did now, and the thought of her troubles and anxieties 
distressed me beyond measure. ‘‘I will conquer that 
quixotic determination on Mr. Eock^s part,^^ I said to my- 
self. ‘‘ Nothing shall stop my marriage with Elizabeth. 


170 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


The old gentleman was ready to heap money upon me 
when he had got it, and now that he is ruined, he shall 
share my lot. 

Throughout this narrative I have never, attempted to gloss 
over my faults and failings, m}? errors and imperfections, or to 
conceal the selfishness of my nature — a quality by no means 
singular in my sex. It is therefore only fair to myself to 
state that upon this occasion I was guided by no unworthy 
motives, and that in all I said and did, my first thought 
was for the woman I truly and honestly loved, and my 
second for the man whom I sincerely respected, and with 
whose misfortunes 1 deeply sympathized. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

Next morning Mr. Rock came round. He was as cheer- 
ful as if nothing had happened: in the frame of mind of a 
man who knew the worst. 

“ Squire, said he, “among my many varied experi- 
ences I was once a mason. They were renovating some 
blocks in Broadway. Mine was a humble position. I was 
down on the pavement stirring up the concrete. Sudden- 
ly, like a flash of lightning, a man comes down from the 
top of the very highest combination of ladders lashed to- 
gether, and is deposited on the pavement. We were going 
toward him to pick up the pieces, but he pulled himself 
together on his hind legs, as a citizen of the United States 
ought to do. ‘ Thank Providence, my friends, ^ says he, 
‘ that little job^s over for the present." Them"s my senti- 
ments at this minute, Mr. Severn. "" 

I complimented him on his perfect appreciation of the 
principles of the Stoic philosophy, and then asked after 
Elizabeth. 

“ She"s a good gell, Mr. Severn. She"s a gell with grit 
and pluck. She "11 pull bow oar in the same boat with her 
old dad yet. I don"t mean to deny that she"s a bit annoyed. 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


171 


It^s hard to lose your dollars and come down to dimes. 
But she held on wonderful.'' And after this Mr. Rock 
left. 

For some time 1 meditated. Then I went out into the 
open air. Then I came back and meditated again. Then 
I was driven direct to the American Legation. My name 
and position at the English Bar were sufficient introduc- 
tion, and I was at once in presence of the senior attache. 
He was a typical American, hailing from Boston. I soon 
satisfied him as to who I was. ' Then I told him that I re- 
quired his services in a delicate matter, which was purely 
personal. He was very busy at the time of my call, but he 
was courtesy itself, and he made an early appointment with 
me. 

American gentlemen are said to be rare. But when you 
do meet one, he is the finest gentleman in the worldr 

The next day I called upon him at four o'clock. After 
the customary cordial shake of the hand, he went into 
business. 

“ Well, Mr. Severn," he said, ‘^your business is not ex- 
actly of a diplomatic character, and it does not come within 
the range of my functions to aid you in any way except as 
a personal friend, which I hope from this time I may con- 
sider myself. But we have a young fellow here in the 
Legation, and I have sent him round, quite unofficially, to 
see Mr. Rock. Oddly enough, he comes from the neigh- 
borhood of Rockburg, and his mother is eighth cousin, nine 
times removed, or something of that sort„ from Mr. Rock 
himself. You must distinctly understand, Mr. Severn, 
that these negotiations are absolutely private. I am acting 
entirely as your personal friend. If you come here to the 
Legation as an American subject and tell me you want five 
dollars, I refer you to the Consulate. If you want some- 
tliing entirely different, I ‘consider it, and I either drop the 
matter like a hot potato, or I carry it through. I can not 
promise you success, but time shows everything. Some- 


172 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


times you measure it by seconds, and sometimes by hours. 
But we all of us have a limited pull at it. 

I then had some business negotiations with the attache, 
which were not at all difficult, as I had taken the precau- 
tion of providing myself with notes of the Bank of France. 
The amount I need not trouble myself to state, but the 
notes themselves were indisputable, and the attache 
promised me that the source from which they came sliould 
not be known. Then I loafed about the boulevards until 
night had run more than a quarter of her time. And so 
ended not an eventful day so much as a day of heavy business. 

In the morning I waited events, and at about ten I re- 
ceived a letter — rather a stiff one — from my friend of yes- 
terday, the attache. He told me almost In so many words 
that he had gone out of his way to help me, and that if I 
haff not made a fool of him, Mr. Rock at all events must 
have made a fool of me. That Mr. Rock was in no need 
of money at all, and had offered to cash the check of the 
Legation in napoleons, allowing for the rate of the day^’s 
discount ‘On the Bourse, for any aniomit they pleased. 

There must be some extraordinary blunder somewhere, 
Mr. Severn, the letter concluded. ‘‘ I acquit you of any 
ill intention. But the blimder has certainly not been on 
my part. The money you placed in my hands I now re- 
turn to you; and I have the honor to be,"” etc., etc. 

This communication puzzled me more than ever. I had 
intended to do good by stealth, without the least desire that 
I should blush to find it fame, and here I was written down 
as an ass. I have not hitherto touched on my own self-re- 
spect, but it must be admitted that the situation was exas- 
perating. Explain matters away how I might, everybody 
would believe I had made a fool of myself. And I had 
done worse. I had done so in the most public manner. 
Next day, in all human probability, the whole story would 
be in the ‘‘ Figaro, and in the petite presse. I felt beside 
myself with rage. 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


173 


I left Meurice^s and strolled into the gardens of the. 
Palais Royal. I stuffed my pockets on the way with bon- 
bons, with which I tempted the children, to the consterna- 
tion and indignation of their bonnes, I turned into a bill- 
iard salon, and had an hour during which my troubles 
never crossed my brain. I threw the marker some money, 
and told him he could keep the change if he could beat 
me. All the skill of my old days broke out again. The 
marker was nowhere. At the end of the hour he tendered 
me my change with profuse compliments, and seemed very 
much astonished that I did not take it. 

Billiard markers are accustomed to the seamy side of 
society. My own private impression is that this particular 
marker considered me a fiat, and he at once procured a 
^ibstitute, lest I should come back repenting of my gen- 
erosity, and insisting that I had made a mistake. 

Then I returned to Meurice’s, threw myself on the sofa, 
and speculated in a listless and dreamy way on ever 3 dhing. 

Have you ever looked through a kaleidoscope? You 
see a most gorgeous arrangement in every color of the 
rainbow. You rotate the tube by an inch or a fraction of 
it; the phantasmagoria tumbles to pieces, and another 
vision of beauty arises in its place. I seemed to feel the 
spirit of a true philosopher creeping over me. 

‘‘ I will realize my money, I said to myself, ‘‘ and in- 
vest it carefully. I will have a little pied d terre in Hamp- 
shire within sound of the sea. In London I can quarter 
myself where I please. I will get a schooner yacht, not 
ostentatious but sea-worthy, and I will rolm the rest of my 
life without any definite purpose. When the place suits 
me, I will stop for just as long as 1 please. When it does 
not suit me, I will go elsewhere. Nothing can add to my 
present success in my profession. All else that will come 
to me will come as a matter of course, and not in conse- 
quence of any labor or exertion on my own part. I have 
done the work of my life, and, thanks to my great luck. 


174 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


have got it over early. Now I will take the quiet, tranquil 
enjoyment. 

I had almost forgotten Mr. Rock; ahd feeling as com- 
fortable as a sailor in his hammock, I let my thoughts drift 
toward him. It would be best after all to make one more 
attempt. No doubt the man considered me an advent- 
urer. That was his ignorance. But I wished to end with 
him in a friendly understandmg at any rate. And I had 
also something very much stronger than a sneaking desire 
to see Elizabeth once more. 

So I lay on my sofa turning things over, and relieving 
my meditations by constructing geometrical patterns out of 
the paper on the walls, and listening to the twitter of the 
sparrows on my balcony, and to the chimes of the clocks,© 
when suddenly the waiter made his appearance, with a 
double allowance of obsequiousness in his usual Parisian 
manner, and murmured — 

Monsieur, Monsieur Rock est en bas.^^ 


CHAPTER XXX. 

Mr. Rock stalked into the room with a cigar in his 
mouth. I noticed also that his watch and chain and rings 
and diamond studs were, as he himself would have phrased 
it, *in their appropriate locality. Here clearly was a new 
move in the game. But as it was Mr. Rock who came to 
me, it coidd only mean a point in my favor. 

He shook me by the hand, grasping it as if he were at- 
tempting to squeeze water out of a piece of quartz. Then 
he ensconced himself in the corner of a lomige. 

Squire, said he, “I owe you a very long and a very 
big apology. DonT interrupt me, squire, because my buz- 
zum is full, and I must speak my piece before I get off 
the stump. 

I gravely inclined my head in assent. 

“ Squire, my gell is my only cliild. I love her for her- 


JACK AND THREE JILL8. 


175 


self, and I love her for the sake of her mother, who, 
although she was an ‘Irishwoman from Tipperary, with a 
tongue from Cape Horn to BaflSn's Bay, and the temper of 
a smelting furnace, is now a saint in heaven, or ought to 
he. Squire, I’ve taken hberties with you. That demands 
an apology. I tender that apology now. You didn’t mis- 
understand me, squire, but I misunderstood you. When 
there are dollars about, you ^fill alius find ring-tailed 
squealers, and likewise copperheads. Squire, I’m a bit 
fixed. I’ve got to beg your pardon. Since I struck ile, 
eveiy man has begged my pardon, so I’ve had no trouble 
that way. Before I struck ile, if a man didn’t beg my 
pardon when it was on the cards that he ought to do so, I 
went for him. I usually pulled off the deposits. Here I 
am, squire, to beg your pardon, and actually to dip the 
stars and stripes for playing it down low on y6u. ” 

It seemed like a dream. To assure myself that I was in 
the land of the living I shook hands with Mr. Kock once 
again, to the imminent danger of my palm and knuckles. 

“I’ve played it down on you, squire,” repeated Mr. 
Kock. ‘ ‘ I felt it was my plain and straightforward duty 
so to do. Do you forgive me for so doing?” 

“Mr. Rock,” I replied, “you’re a trump; what I be- 
lieve you would call ‘ the right bower. ’ Now, where is 
Elizabeth, and how is she? It seems to me, unless there is 
any difficulty with her, that our business is over.” 

“ Quite right, squire,” said Mr. Rock; “ right you are. 
No occasion for playing out any more chin music. We 
understand one another, and we don’t ‘want any Alabama 
Treaty, unless it can put work in your way as a Rising 
British lawyer, in which event I should welcome the nego- 
tiations. ” 

“ But where is Elizabeth?” I again inquired, not unnatu- 
rally. 

“ She is round at the Grand, squii’e, where dinner is 
waiting for us at seven. Squire, I have not taken a liberty, 


176 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


and risked mjself on a chance. I did not know how events 
might turn out. Nor, for the matter of that, did my gell. 
‘Dad,^ she said, ‘youVe riled him past everything.^ 
Thank the powers! squire, I haven’t. But I’ve a few 
friends round to-night at the Grand, who know nothing of 
matters. I should like you to meet them. I’ve got most 
of our Embassy and some friends of my own; and, please 
the poker, we’ll play the game through. I shall expect 
you, squire, at seven.” 

And with no more ado, Mr. Eock took his departure. 
From my balcony I saw him walking along the Eue de la 
Paix, with his hands in his pockets, his hat on the back of 
his head, and his chest inflated, as becomes a citizen of the 
United States who has struck oil. 

:ic :|c ^ He ^ « 

The dinner was solenm and pompous. The resources of 
the hotel must have been taxed to the utmost. The table 
in its center was a mass of rare exotics and orchids. There 
were about two waiters to each chair. The mmih was a 
work of art, and in its back were the Union Jack and the 
Stars and Stripes amicably intercrossed. There were great 
pyramids of ice dispersed on small tables to cool the room; 
and when the dinner was over there were professional 
singers — I need not give their names, but they were the 
best known in Paris — who, to judge by their exertions to 
do full justice to their powers, must have been royally 
paid. 

In some fear and trembling, I anticipated an oration 
from Mr. Kock, announcing the turn events had taken. 
He had more tact than I had credited him with. He had 
whispered the secret to each guest at the door, and had in- 
timated his expi-ess desire that there should be on orat- 
ing.” 

The one exception to this golden rule was found in the 
French Under-Secretary of Marine, with any number of 


-TACK AND THKEE JILLS. 


177 


decorations, from the Legion of Honor downward, who 
rose to his feet and said — 

‘‘ Mademoiselle and gentlemen, let us drink all to the 
United States, the most' free and most Republican country 
upon which the sun rises and sets.^' 

Then the senior attache of the American Legation, 
wholly devoid of even a scrap of ribbon, pulled himself up 
to his full height of about six feet and as many inches — for 
he hailed from Kentucky — and responded — 

“ Sir, I thank you in the revered name of the Stars and 
Stripes. And that was literally all. For which fact I 
was grateful. 

We broke up as all parties must, but next morning I was 
round at the Grand, punctual to the appointment I had 
made ^vith Elizabeth, having first fortified myself with a 
brisk gallop in the Bois, and a cold plunge after it in the 
Seine. 

The details of lovers^ conversation are tedious, monoto- 
nous, and prosaic, at least to- every one except themselves. 
Ko man even at this time knew this fact better than my- 
self. I must candidly own that 1 was unequal to the situa- 
tion. Elizabeth helped me over the stile like a lame dog, 
as I was busy suggesting to her father that we should spend 
the day at Vincennes. 

We had the day, and, for all reasonable purposes, the 
place entirely to ourselves. Nor was there any dialogue 
here worthy of record. No one of us was disposed to open 
the topic of Mr. Rock^s ruse. We simply chatted as a 
family pa«*ty might between the members of which there 
were no family differences. It was only when I was leaving 
Mr. Rock at the door of the Grand that he came back to 
business. 

“ I should have liked this ceremony to have taken place 
in Rockburg, or, at all events, in New York or Washing- 
ton "itself. But I think, under all the circumstances, it 
must be in England. There's St. Paul's, squire, and the 


178 


JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 


Westminster Abbey, and there^s 8t. George's, Hanover 
Square, and there^s that old fabric, with its darned witches 
hat for a belfry, closely adjacent to the Langham, and 
there ^s St. Jameses. But I tliink, squire, we'll be married, 
if it is all the same to you, in your own parish, and we'll 
give every soul in the parish a blow out, and a something 
by which to remember ,the auspicious day. We'll do the 
thing, squire, as it ought to be done — as befits the daughter 
of a simple citizen of the United States, equal and no more 
to all other citizens under her blessed and glorious constitu- 
tion." 

I told him that I left the matter entirely in his hands; 
but before we parted we agreed that what Mr. Rock pro- 
fanely denominated the fixture, should have its venue in my 
own parish church at Essex, at the earliest possible date, 
subject to the demands of milliners and other such neces- 
sary but tiresome supernumeraries. 

When I got back to my hotel I found a letter from my 
sister Rachel, full of the usual idle gossip. The only piece 
of news in it that in any way concerned myself, was that 
Izzie Vivian had been married three days a^o to Lord Ash- 
ford; that the tenants had had dinner in a marquee, and 
that the school-children had been regaled with buns and 
ginger-beer, and gratified by a conjurer, and a Punch and 
Judy specially brought down from London for the pur- 
pose. 

She could have wished the wedding had been my own, 
but she supposed I was old enough, or at any rate suffi- 
ciently willful, to manage my own affairs in my# own way. 
Izzie had always been the dearest and sweetest of girls. 
Lord Ashford was not all proud, although it was expected 
that he would shortly be made Under-Secretary of State 
for the Colonies, a post for which his conscientiousness and 
immense abilities amply qualified him. 

‘‘ He rides better to hounds," ended the letter, spiteful- 
ly, “than any man in the county, not excepting your 


.TACK AND THREE .TILLS. 


179 


precious self, and he is deservedly popular with everybody. 
He has become a smcere Christian, and taken a class in the 
Sunday-school, and he is writing a book called ‘‘‘ A Fort- 
night among the Red Deer of the Scottish Highlands. 

If women only knew how men laugh at this kind of spit- 
ting venom without biting, I think they would give the 
habit up. But they imagine it to be as infallible as their 
crushing remark to their dearest friend — “It is a very 
beautiful dress, my dear, but I wonder you should let your 
dress-maker persuade you into a color so entirely unsuited 
to your complexion. 


CHAPTER XXXL 

It had been arranged that we should leave Paris by the 
night train, and cross by the day boat from Calais, Eliza- 
beth being, like most Americans, an admirable sailor, and 
loving the deck. This gave us a day to ourselves. Ameri- 
cans are much freer m their notions, customs and habits 
than ourselves. In the East you never see your bride until 
it has been settled that you are to marry her, and all the 
preliminaries have been arranged. You have then to take 
her literally for better or for worse. You may find her 
forty instead of twenty; fat and frowsy instead of fragile 
arfd fair. You have bought your pig in a poke, and you 
must stand by your bargain. 

France — about Germany I can not speak — comes very 
close to the land of the prophet. The marriage is an 
arranged matter. You see the young lady once or twice, 
and remark that it is a beautiful day, and she replies that ‘ 
you are right. That is about the extent of your courtship. 

My English readers will probably agree with me that our 
own customs are more sensible, and more adapted to that 
freedom wEich is the natural heritage of man. In America, 
when an engagement is “ fitted up,'^ the two young people 
have the most absolute hberty, and use it. The swam goes 


180 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


about With h\s fiancee as it she were his wife. A chaperon 
IS a thing unknown. He takes her to the opera; he drives 
Her out; he takes her to dinner at Delmonico's; he goes 
round with her on visits to her friends and his; and, if he 
be living en gavQon, she comes and visits him at his cham- 
bers or other quarters. > 

Thi^ apparent license is hardly ever abused. Any at- 
tempt to trespass upon it would be resented by the six- 
shooter and Oy public opinion. 

1 consequently had a most cheerful time of it up to the 
very day of our wedding, which, as Mr. Kock wished, took 
place in om* parish church. Let me give a brief idea of 
the day^s proceedings, which Mr. Rock took into his own 
hands, remarking that he wished to see the thing put 
through according to his own notion. 

We all stayed for a week at my father ^s house, and I 
could not help noticing, although it was no part of my 
duty to show my consciousness of the fact, that a sum such 
as that which fell on Danae seemed suddenly to gild the 
place. The neglected gardens became trim. The paths 
were radiant with new gravel. The interior of the house 
seemed to be renovated, without any change wrought or 
violence done to its old, quiet, somber aspect. The lawns 
were mowed — a process of which they stood in sad need — 
and the borders of the shrubberies became gay with flowers. 

My father told me one morning that I had always been 
the best of sons, and that he had always confldently pre- 
dicted my success to everybody. After which he went 
down himself into the cellar, and returned with a pint bot- 
tle of madeira, bottled by my great-grandfather, and con- 
scious of three voyages round the Cape. 

We discussed this in what he called his study, whei-e he 
kept his few volumes of law, as befits a justice of the peace, 
and his boot-trees and his guns and his fishing-rods and his 
account-books: Library in the room there was none, but 
on the lower shelf of the vacant book-case was a leaden jar 


JACK A¥D THREE JILLS. 


181 


of tobacco, and round about it were clay pipes from the 
village inn. The floor was of old oak, and as there was no 
carpet, a spittoon was an unnecessary luxury. 

Jack,^' said m}’’ father, ‘‘I am proud of you. You 
always were, and you have always remained, my favorite 
child. Little as you may guess it, I have with a father 
eye carefully superintended every step and stage in your 
education; and my gray hair will go down with pride to 
the grave to see that my efforts have been crowned with 
success, and that I have a son who is worthy of the family 
name and of myself. You are a man now. Jack. I am 
speaking to you as an equal. My few years are numbered, 
and I have nothing for which to wish. But I should like 
to see the dear old place come down unencumbered, with- 
out any cutting of timber, or any such painful extremity. 
1 think. Jack, that my credit at the bank is still sufficient- 
ly good for you and me to manage this between us, without 
your entailing upon yourself more than a nominal responsi- 
bility. God bless you, my boy, and God bless the lovely and 
most charming young lady who is to become your wife. 

Before the interview was over my father was the happier 
by a few bank-notes with which I had provided myself in 
heu of a check, guessing that his account would be over- 
drawn, and fearing a stoppage in transitu. 

That evening 1 had a walk with Elizabeth ‘round what 
was still called the home farm. It had ceased to be the 
home farm for many years, having been let to a West End 
milkman. It was a pretty little place, with paddocks and 
cow-houses, and old plane-trees and low hawthorn hedges, 
red and white, which in the twilight threw out a marvelous 
fragrance, making the air heavy and happy. 

“ Jack,'’^ she said, “ we are going to entirely change all 
our relations in life. 

To this undeniable and most business-like statement I 
gave my concurrence. 

Well, Jack, it"s due to yourself to tell you why father 


182 JACK AND THREE JILLS. 

acted as he did. And it’s still more due to father, who is 
tJie best old man on two legs in this universe. Father 
thought you were after our dollars. Everybody told him 
so. And it’s no good pretending we haven’t dollars, Jack, 
Decause we have, as everybody knows from San Francisco 
harbor light round to the Golden Horn. So father said 
he’d play a bit of euchre, and he ordered me to hold my 
. tongue. Of course I had to obey him. I knew your cards 
would turn up trumps, but I won’t go so far as to say that 
it wasn’t an unpleasant time. The worst of it was that 
father, being uncertain in his own mind, kept on looking 
• round at me the whole time, and wanted to know why I’d 
given him all this trouble. He was at me from morning 
to night, saying that a daughter next to dollars was the 
biggest plague a man could have. Well, Jack, father, as 
you know, has friends at the Legation, and he was able to 
read between the lines of your little bit of business there. 

“ That staggered him a little. If I had been an English 
girl 1 should have been at him night and day, crying and 
going into hysterics, and lying in bed. Instead of that, I 
went on ^ust as usual One morning — I can’t tell you 
which, for the whole thing seems like an ugly dream — 
lather had nnished his breakfafet, and finished his papers, 
and his cigar. Then he got on the stump, or rather on the 
hearth-rug, a stump not being handy and convenient. 
And 1 Knew tolerably well what was coming, " Elizabeth,’ 
he said, ‘ this Mr. Severn has cut a full hand. A^i* your 
affections still sot on him?’ Well, Jack, of course I an- 
swered that they were; and I also told father what I felt it 
my duty as a daughter to do, that he’d been fooling around 
and making himself ridiculous about nothing at all. 
‘That p’int,’ father answered, ‘I won’t contradict. It 
ain’t for me to argue with you, gell. If I were to try and 
clear out that location, my hands would be considerable 
full. And then he and I made it up. And that’s really 
all about it, Jack. 


JACK AKD THKEE JILLS. 


183 


But;, Jack, I don^t think father in his own heart ever 
believed you mean. He only felt it was a kind of sort his 
duty to poke you up a bit, and try. Father has his own 
ways. They maynT be my ways, though it isn't for me to 
gainsay them, or go contrary to them. But it will be a cold 
day in August before I again take any such job in hand." 

“ ^ All's well that ends well,' Elizabeth," I answerel. 
“ I am not at all sure your father wasn't perfectly right. 
He knows his way about as well as most men, and is full^ 
entitled to his own opinion and his own course of conduct. 
Besides, he was most careful not to put the least affront 
upon me. If I had wanted a handle against him, I 
couldn't have found it. It has been a funny little chapter 
of stories, but it's all over now. " 

If she had been an English girl, I should, like Tenny- 
son's Lord Ronald," have “ turned and kissed her where 
she stood." As she was American, we solemnly shook 
hands. I am not at all sure that I do not prefer American 
manners to our own. 

When we arrived at the house, I foimd my father and 
Mr. Rock solemnly pacing up and down the elm avenue 
under the rookery. My father was radiant. He saw 
boundless wealth before him, to be gained by his own exer- 
tion and his -own local knowledge. Mr. Rock had agreed 
with him that the only idea he had ever had in his own life 
was the very best one he could possibly have entertained. 
It wa^ wonderful, Mr. Rock had observed, how my father 
could have hammered out an idea so uncommonly original 
and brilliant. What remained of the estate had obviously 
been intended by Providence from the very first for a large 
dairy farm, to be carried on in so gentlemanly a manner 
that a justice of the peace, with subordinates under him, 
could boss the concern himself, without treading on the 
time required by his public duties. The only thmg needed 
was capital, which Mr. Rock was anxious to invest, being 
sure that the speculation was essentially sound. 


184 


JACK AND THREE JILLS. 


Part of the estate would have to be put into swedes and 
mangolds, p^rt in pasturage, to be utilized in the fail of 
the year as hay. Ranches must be built, and there must 
be a little home farm, of course, with stone floors and tiled 
walls, and all the rest of it, for the cream and the butter. 

“Your father, Mr. Severn, said Mr. Rock, without a 
change in his features or a modulation in his voice, “ is a 
very long-headed man of business. He mentioned the plan 
to me, and told me he had ifeen considering it all his life, 
but that capital had stood iii his way. Naturally I replied 
that I had a little capital knocking about in hard want of a 
sound investment, and that this seemed the soundest in- 
vestment of which I had heard for many a long day. 

Mr. Rock was so portentously business-like that I dared 
liot even smile. 

“ But your father, Mr. Severn,^’ he continued, “ is get- 
ting too old to be worried and mussed about with figures 
and ledgers, and that kind of routine. Besides, they do 
not suit the dignity of an English deputy-lieutenant and 
justice of the peace, so I have arranged that there is to be 
a working-partner, a yoimg man I know in Jersey City, 
about as sharp as they make them, who will take the de- 
tails out of your father^’s hands, leaving him unfettered in 
the control and administration. That young man I shall 
cable for, and he will come over at once. And I think, 
Mr. Severn, your father sees at last how to develop^his es- 
tate. I won’t say there is ile in it, sir. Providence, for its 
own reasons, has confined ile to the United States. But 
there are dollars in it when it is developed. And developed 
it shall be subject always to the constitution of the United 
States. ” 

And here Mr. Rock lighted a cigar, and remarked that 
it was a hot day, and that he was tired of talking, and that 
he should like to stroll with me, and have a long driiiK; 
under the elms. So we went and sat under the immense 
trees, talking very little but thoroughly contented, as ought 


JACK AND THKEE JILLS. 


185 


to be the condition of men who have no enemies, and have 
satisfactorily disposed of the most troublesome among their 
friends, 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

Befoke I turned in that night my mother sent' for me to 
her dressing-room, when she cried a great deal, as is the 
habit of mothers, and also told me that 1 had always been 
her f 9 ,vorite child, coupling the information with some de- 
tails on the circumstances of my first appearance in this 
world. This also is a habit mothers have, and I am not 
sure that their honest pride in what are, possibly, indisput- 
able facts is not a credit to them. 

She said that Elizabeth had struck her immensely, and 
that I had made a match which the lord-lieutenant might 
envy me; and she added, with feminine power of percep- 
tion, that, so far as she could see, Izzie^s hair was getting 
thin at the parting, and that she had to lace until her nose 
was red. No mother ever forgives a woman whom she 
thinks has insulted her own son. 

As for our wedding, it is chronicled in the “ Morning 
Post,^’ and several columns of it were cabled over by my 
father-in-law to the “ Rockburg Gazette and Sentinel 
and “ Bulletin. The village was en fete all day. Mr. 
Rock, who had taken matters entirely into his own haiids^ 
brought down a circus, which completely eclipsed the con- 
juror from London at the Ashford- Vivian marriage. There 
was open house all over the place, and if there were no 
charges during the next few days, Mr. Rock must have 
taken the precaution of squaring the local constable, for 
the amount of liquqr in which my health and that of Mrs. 
John Severn was drunk, would have fioated a three-decker 
with all her guns in her. 

We left — that is to say Elizabeth and I — very soon after 
the (‘utting of the cake. Here again old Rock had made 


1S6 JACK AKD THREE JILLS. 

all arrangements. Money was nothing to him, and he liked 
people to understand as much- So we had a special train 
to Liverpool Street. Never before had a special train been 
known to start from our own little road-side station; and 
at Dover we found the last triumph of Mr. Rock^s sumptu- 
ousness, like the bang at the end of a squib, in a special 
boat to take us over by ourselves. 

We walked on the deck of that boat under the stars, 
with the phosphorescent sea below us. It would be idle to 
pretend that I was not entirely and completely happy. I 
was also contented. And content is an adjunct to happi- 
ness, and improves it, as vinegar, chopped mint, and lump 
sugar improve lamb, although spring lamb in itself is a 
very admirable tiling, and one mentioned with tenderness 
by every Brillat Savarin. 

Elizabeth, I said, as we walked up and down the 
deck, “ I do not really think I have any secrets that I need 
tell you. 

Most men have their secrets, dear,’’ she replied, and 
if a man is a gentleman, you will always find that his 
secrets do him credit; so that the fools who poke their 
noses into them get very few cents in change for their dol- 
lar. My only secrets I told out in church to-day, and to it 
I mean to stick. Look at that star. Jack. I think it’s 
Jupiter. If so, it’s luck for you. Besides, I want to see 
his belts. Send word to the skipper to lumber roimd with 
his telescope. ” 

This the skipper did, and the planet turned out to be 
Jupiter, and nothing less. After this what followed would 
have been more or less foolishness, had not Mrs. Severn 
been an American, of that marvelous race in which senti- 
ment, however powerful, is always controled and corrected 
by dry, bracing, native humor. 

We paced the deck heedless of the dew, and watched the 
lights of other vessels crossing and passing our own, until 
at last through the morning mist the harbor lights of Calais 


JACK AKD THKEE JILLS. 


187 


showed themselves, and our vessel was warped up alongside 
the pier. 

A man has no business to be always talking about him- 
self and his own feelings. But if .ever I was supremely 
happy it was as I went up that almost Alpine slope of gang- 
way, with my Avife^s right hand on my arm, and my own 
right hand held over it. 


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ALPHABETICAL LIST. 


10 


802 Abbot, The. Sequel to “ The 
Monastery.” By Sir Walter 

Scott 20 

788 Absentee, The. An Irish Story. 

By Maria Edgeworth 

829 Actor’s Ward, The. By the au- 
thor of “A Fatal Dower”... 

36 Adam Bede. By George Eliot. 

388 Addie’s Husband ; or. Through 
Clouds to Sunshine. By the 
author of ” Love or Lands?”. 

5 Admiral's Ward, The. By Mrs. 
A.l©XQ-tjd0r 20 

127 Adrian Bright. By Mi^. Caddy 20 
500 Adrian Vidal. By W. E. Norris 20 
477 Affinities. A Romance of To- 
day. By Mrs. Campbell -Praed 10 

413 Afloat and Ashore. By J. Fen 

imore Cooper 20 

128 Afternoon, and Other Sketches. 

By “Ouida” 10 

603 Agnes. By Mrs. Oliphant. First 

Half.... 20 

603 Agnes. By Mrs. Oliphant. Sec- 
ond Half 20 

218 Agnes Sorel. ByG. P. R. James 20 
14 Airy Fairy Lilian. By “ The 

Duchess” 20 

874 Alice, Grand Duchess of Hesse, 
Princess of Great Britain and 
Ireland. Biographical Sketch 

and Letters 10 

636 Alice Lorraine. By R. D. Black- 

more, 1st half 20 

636 Alice I-orraine. By R. D. Black- 

more. 2fi half 20 

660 Alice: or. The Mysteries. (A Se- 
quel to “ Ernest Maltravers.”) 
iv Sir E. Bulwer Ly tton ... 20 


20 

20 

10 

20 


462 Alice’s Adventures in Wonder- 
land. By Lewis Carroll. With 
forty - two illustrations by 

John Tenniel 

97 All in a Garden Fair. By Wal- 
ter Besant 

484 Although He Was a Lord, and 
Other Tales. Mrs. Forrester, 

47 Altiora Peto. By Laurence Oli- 
phant 

2.53 Amazon, The. By Carl Vosmaer 10 
447 American Notes. By Charles 

Dickens 20 

176 An April Day. By Philippa Prit- 

tie Jephson 10 

403 An English Squire. By C. R. 

Coleridge 20 

897 Ange, By Florence Marryat. . . 20 
648 Angel of the Bells, The. By F. 

Du Boisgobey 20 

An Inland Voyage. By Robert 

Louis Stevenson 10 

263 An Ishmaelite. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

154 Annan Water. By Robert Buch- 
anan 20 

200 An Old Man's Love.'By Anthony 

Trollope 10 

750 An Old Story of My Farming 
Days. Fritz Reuter. 1st half 20 
750 An Old Story of My Farming 
Days. Fritz Reuter. 2d half 20 
93 Anthony Trollope’s Autobiog- 
raphy - 20 

843 Archie Lovell. By Mrs. Annie 

Edwards 20 

395 Archipelago on Fire, The. By 

Jules Verne 10 

532 Arden Court. Barbara Graham 20 


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247 Armourer’s Prentices, The. By 


Charlotte M. Yong:e 10 

813 Army Society, I.ife in a Garri- 
son Town. By J. S. Winter. . 10 
990 Arnold’s Promise. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

224 Arundel Motto, The. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

347 As Avon Flows. By Henry Scott 

Vince 20 

541 “ As it Fell Upon a Day,” by 
‘‘The Duchess,” and Uncle 

Jack, by Walter Besant 10 

5G0 Asphodel. MissM. E. Braddon 20 
6J0 At a High Price. By E. Werner 20 
352 At Any Cost, By Edw. Garrett 10 
564 At Bay, By Mrs. Alexander. . . 10 
528 At His Gates. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 
192 At the World’s Mercy. By F. 

Warden 10 

287 At War With Herself. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 10 

923 At War With Herself. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme. (Large type 

edition) 20 

737 Aunt Rachel. By David Christie 

Murray 10 

760 Aurelian; or, Romo in the Third 

Century. By Williixi Ware. 20 
74 Aurora Floyd. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

997 Australian Aunt, The. By Mrs. 

Alexander 20 

730 Autobio{>:raphy of Benjamin 
Franklin, The 10 


328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. By 
F. Du Boisgobey. First half. 20 
328 Babiole, the Pretty Milliner. By 
F. Du Boisgobey. Second half 20 
241 Baby’s Grandmother, The. By 

L. B. Walford, 10 

342 Baby, The. By ” The Duchess” 10 

611 Babylon. By Cecil Power 20 

443 Bachelor of tlie Albany, The. . . 10 
683 Bachelor Vicar of Newforth, 
The. By Mrs. J. Harcourt-Roe 20 
371 Bachelor’s Blunder, A. By W. 

E. Norris 20 

65 Back to the Old Home. By 

Mai’y Cecil Hay 10 

847 Bad to Beat. By Hawley Smart 10 
834 Ballroom Repentance, A. By 

Mrs. Annie Edwards 20 

551 Barbara Heathcote’s Trial. By 
Rosa N. Carey. 2 parts, each 20 
99 Barbara’s History. By Amelia 

B. Edwards 20 

234 Bai'bara; or. Splendid Misery. 

By Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

91 Barnaby Rudge, By Charles 

Dickens. First half 20 

91 Barnaby Rudge. By Charles 

Dickens. Second half 20 

653 Barren Title, A. T, W. Speight 10 
731 Bayou Bride, The. By Mrs. 

Mary E. Bryan 20 


794 Beaton’s Bargain, By Mrs. Al- 
exander 20 

717 Beau Tancrede; or, the Mar- 
riage Verdict. By Alexander 

Dumas 20 

29 Beauty’s Daughters. By “ The 

Duchess” 10 

86 Belinda. By Rhoda Broughton 20 
929 Belle of Lynn, The; or. The 
Miller’s Daughter. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

593 Berna Boyle. By Mrs. J. H. 

Riddell 20 

581 Betrothed, The. (I Promessi 
Sposi,) Alessandro Manzoni. 20 
862 Betty’s Visions. By Rhoda 

Broughton 10 

620 Between the Heather and the 
Northern Sea. By M. Linskill 20 
466 Between Two Loves. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

‘‘Dora Thorne” 20 

476 Between Two Sins; or. Married 
in Haste. By Charlotte M, 
Braeme, author of ‘‘Dora 
Thorne ” 10 


483 Betwixt My Love and Me. By 

tho author of “A Golden Bar ” 10 


308 Beyond Pardon. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of ‘‘ Dora 

Thorno ” 20 

257 Beyond Recall. By Adeline Ser- 
geant 10 

553 Birds of Prey. By Miss M, E. 

Braddon 20 

320 Bit of Human Nature, A. By 

David Christie Murray 10 . 

411 Bitter Atonement, A. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

• ‘‘ Dora Thorne ” 20 

430 Bitter Reckoning, A. By the au- 
thor of ‘‘ By (brooked Paths ” 10 
353 Black Dwarf, The. By Sir 

Walter Scott 20 

302 Blatchford Bequest, The. By 
Hugh Conw'ay, author of 

‘‘ Called Back ” 10 

106 Bleak House. By Charles Dick- 
ens. 1st and 2d half, each ... 20 
968 Blossom and Fruit: or, Ma- 
dame’s Ward. By the author 

of “ Wedded Hands ” 20 

842 Blue-Stocking, A. By Mrs. An- 
nie Edwards 10 


492 Booties’ Baby ; or, Mignon. By 

J. S. Winter. Illustrated 10 

9.35 Borderland. Jessie Fothergill. 20 
429 Boulderstone: or. New Men and 
Old Populations, By W. Sime 10 
830 Bound by a Spell. Hugh Con- 
way, author of “ Called Back” 20 
394 Bravo, The. By J. Fenimore 


Cooper. 20 

299 Bride from the Sea, A. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of ‘‘ Dora Thorne ” 10 

362 Bride of Lammermoor, The. 

By Sir Waiter Scott 20 


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259 Bride of Monte-Cristo, The. A 
Sequel to “ The Count of 
Monte-Cristo.” By Alexan- 


der Dumas 10 

JOO Bridge of Love, A. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 10 

907 Bright Star of Life, The. By 

B. L. Farjeon 20 

642 Britta. By George Temple 10 

70 Broken Heart, A; or. Wife in 
Name Only. By Charlotte 
M. Braemej author •£ “ Dora 

Thorne” 20 

54 Broken Wedding-Ring, A. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
‘ of “ Dora Thorne ” 20 


898 BuMdog and Butterfly, and Julia 
and Her Romeo, by David 
Christie Murray, and Romeo 


and Juliet, by William Black. 20 
817 By Mead and Stream. By Chas. 

Gibbon 20 

58 By the Gate of the Sea. By D. 
Christie Murray 10 


739 Caged Lion, The. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 20 

240 Called Back. By Hugh Conway 10 
602 Camiola: A Girl With a Fortune. 

By Justin McCarthy 20 

186 Canon’s Ward, The. By James 

Payn 20 

149 Captain’s Daughter, The. From 

the Russian of Pushkin 10 

159 Captain Norton’s Diary, and 
A Moment of Madness. By 

* Florence Marryat 10 

655 Cara Roma. By Miss Grant — 20 
711 Cardinal Sin, A. By Hugh Con- 
way, author of ” Called 

Back” .' 20 

502 Carriston’s Gift. By Hugh Con- 
way, author of “Called Back ” 10 
917 Case of Reuben Malachi, Tke. 


By H. Sutherland Edwards.. 10 
937 Cashel Byron’s Profession. By 


George Bernard Shaw 2D 

942 Cash on Delivery. By F. Du 

Boisgobey 20 

364 Castle Dangerous. By Sir Wal- 
ter Scott 10 

770 Castle of Otranto, The. By 

Horace Walpole 10 

746 Cavalry Life ; or. Sketches and 
Stories in Barracks and Out. 

By J. S. Winter 20 

419 Chainbearer, The; or. The Lit- 
tlepage Manuscripts. By J. 

Fenimore Cooper 20 

783 Chantry House. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 20 

790 Chaplet of Pearls, The ; or. The 
White and Black Ribaumont. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 1st half 20 
790 Chaplet of Pearls, The ; or. The 
White and Black Ribaumont. 


Chwlotte M. Yonge. 2d half 20 


212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish 
Dragoon. By Charles Lever. 

First half 90 

212 Charles O’Malley, the Irish 
Dragoon. By Charles Lever. 

Second half 20 

554 Charlotte’s Inheritance. (A Se- 
quel to “ Birds of Prey.”) By 

Miss M. B. Braddon — 20 

61 Charlotte Temple. By Mrs. 

Rowson 10 

588 ‘Cherry. By the author of “ A 

Great Mistake ” 10 

713 “ Cherry Ripe.” By Helen B. 

Mathers 20 

719 Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage. 

By Lord Byron 10 

882 Children of Gibeon. By Walter 

Besant 20 

920 Child of the Revolution, A. By 
the author of “ Mademoiselle 

Mori ” 20 

676 Child’s History of England, A. 

By Charles Dickens 20 

657 Christmas Angel. By B. L. Far- 
jeon 10 

631 Christowell. By R. D. Blackmore 20 
507 Chronicles of the Canongate, 

and Other Stories. By Sir 
Walter Scott 10 

632 Clara Vaughan. By R. D. Black- 

more 20 

949 Claribel’s Love Story ; or. Love’s 
Hidden Depths. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 2® 

33 Clique of Gold, The. By Emile 

Gabor iau 2# 

782 Closed Door, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 1st half 20 

782 Closed Door, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 2d half 20 

499 Cloven Foot, The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

493 Colonel Enderby’s Wife. By 

Lucas Malet. 20 

769 Cometh Up as a Flower. By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

221 Cornin’ Thro’ the Rye. By Helen 

B. Mathers 20 

523 Consequences of a Duel, The. 

By F. Du Boisgobey 20 

547 Coquette’s Conquest, A. By 

Basil 2D 

104 Coral Pin, The. By F. Du Bois- 
gobey. 1st half 20 

104 Coral Pin, The. By F. Du Bois- 
gobey. 2d half 20 

598 Corinna. By “ Rita ” 10 

262 Count of Monte-Cristo, The. 

By Alexander Dumas. Part I 20 
262 Count of Monte-Cristo, The. 

By Alexander Dumas. Part H 20 
687 Country Gentleman, A. By Mrs. 


Oliphaut 20 

590 Courting of Mary Smith, The. 

By F. W. Robinson 20 


787 Court Royal. A Story of Cross 

Currents. By S. Baring-Gould 


a 


4 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY-^Pocket Edition. 


258 Cousins, ByL. B. Walford 20 

649 Cradle and Spade. By William 

Sime 20 

630 Cradock Nowell. By R. D. 

Blackmore. First half 20 

630 Cradock Nowell. By R. D. 

Blackmore. Second half... 20 

9.38 Cranford. By Mrs. Gaskell 20 

108 Cricket on the Hearth, The, 

By Chai’les Dickens 10 

376 Crime of Christmas Day, The. 

By the author of “ My Ducats 

and My Daughter ” 10 

706 Crimson Ktain, A. By Annie 

Bradshaw 10 

629 Cripps, the Carrier. By R. D. 

Blackmore 20 

851 Cry of Blood, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. First half 20 

851 Cry of Blood, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey, Second half 20 

504 Curly; An Actor’s Story, By 

John Coleman. Illustrated. 10 
544 Cut by the County; or, Grace 
Darnel, Miss M. E. Braddon 10 
826 Cynic Fortune. By D. Christie 
Murray 20 

446 Dame Durden. By “Rita”... 20 
34 Daniel Deronda. By George 

Eliot. First half 20 

34 Daniel Deronda. By George 

Eliot. Second half 20 

301 Dark Days. By Hugh Conway 10 
609 Dark House, The : A Knot Un- 
raveled. By G. Manville Fenn 10 
81 Daughter of Heth, A. By Will- 
iam Black 20 

251 Daughter of the Stars, The, and 
• Other Tales. Hugh Conway, 

author of “ Called Back ” 10 

22 David Copperfield. By Charles 

Dickens. Vol. I. 20 

22 David Copperfield. By Charles 

Dickens. Vol. II 20 

959 Dawn. By H. Rider Haggard. . 20 
527 Days of My Life. The. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

305 Dead Heart, A. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 10 

374 Dead Man’s Secret, The ; or, The 
Adventures of a Medical Stu- 
dent. By Dr. Jupiter Paeon. . 20 
567 Dead Men’s Shoes. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

946 Dead Secret.The. Wilkie Collins 20 
286 Deldee ; or. The Iron Hand. By 

F. Warden 20 

115 Diamond Cut Diamond. By T. 

Adolphus Trollope 10 

744 Diana Carew ; or. For a Wom- 
an’s Sake. By Mrs. Forrester 20 
350 Diana of the Crossways. By 

George Meredith 10 

260 Diana’s Discipline; or. Sun- 
shine and Roses. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme i . . . . t . . ID 


Diavola; or. Nobody’s Daugh- 
ter. By Miss M. E. Braddon. 

Part 1 20 

Diavola; or. Nobody’s Daugh- 
ter. By Miss M. E. Braddon. 

Part II 20 

Dick Sand; or, A Captain at 
Fifteen. By Jules Verne — 20 
Dick’s Sweetheart. By “ The 

Duchess ” 20 

Dissolving Views. By Mrs. An- 
drew Lang 10 

Dita. By Lady Margaret Ma- 

jendie 10 

Doctor Cupid. By Rhoda 

Broughton 20 

Doctor Jacob. By Miss Betham- 

Ed wards 20 

Doctor Marigold. By Charles 

Dickens 10 

Doctor’s Wife, The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

Dolores. By Mrs. Forrester. . . 20 
Dombey and Son. By Charles 

Dickens. First half 20 

Dombey and Son. By Charles 

Dickens. Second half 20 

Donal Grant. By George Mac- 
Donald 20 

Don Gesualdo. By“Ouida.”.. 10 
Doom ! An Atlantic Episode. 

By Justin H. McCarthy, M.P. 10 
Dora Thorne. By Charlotte M. 

Braeme 20 

Doris. By “ The Duchess ” . . . . 10 
Doris’s Fortune. By Florence 

Warden 20 

Dorothy Forster. By Walter 

Besant 20 • 

Dorothy’s Venture. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

Dove in the Eagle’s Nest, The. 

By Charlotte M. Yonge 20 

Drawn Game, A. By Basil 20 

Ducie Diamonds, The. By C. 

Blatherwick 10 

Dudley Carleon ; or. The Broth- 
er’s Secret, and George Caul- 
field’s Journey. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 10 

Duke’s Secret, The. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“Dora Thorne” 20 

Dynamiter, The. By Robert 
Louis Stevenson and Fanny 
Van de Grift Stevenson 20 

Earl’s Atonement, The. By 
Charlotte M, Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 20 

East Lynne. Mrs. Henry Wood 20 
Effie Qgilvie. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 
Elizabeth’s Fortune. By Bertha 

Thomas 20 

England under Gladstone. 18^ 
—1885. By Justin H. McCar- 
thy, M.P 20 

Entangled. E. Fairfax Byrrne 20 


478 

478 

87 

486 

536 

185 

894 

594 

108 

529 

721 

107 

107 

282 

671 

779 

51 

284 

820 

230 

678 

665 

585 

151 

549 

982 

855 

465 

8 

827 

960 

685 

521 


THE SEASroE LIBRAEY — ^Pocket Edition. 


5 


625 Erema; or, My Father’s Sin. 

By R. D. Blackniore 20 

118 Eric Bering-. “ The Duchess ” 10 

96 Erling the Bold. By R. M. Bal- 

lant 3 ’ne 10 

90 Ernest Maltravers. By Sir E.Bul- 

wer Lytton 20 

786 Ethel Mildmay’s Follies. By 
author of “ Petite’s Romance ” 20 
162 Eugene Aram. By Sir E. Bulwer 

Lytton 20 

T64 Evil Genius, The. By Wilkie 

Collins 20 

470 EveR’n’s Folly. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

62 Executor, The. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander 20 

13 Ej're’s Acquittal. By Helen B. 
Mathers 10 

819 Face to Face : A Fact in Seven 
Fables, ^y R. E. Francillon. 10 
877 Facing the Footlights. By Flor- 
ence Marryat 20 

538 Fair Country Maid, A. By E. 

Fairfax Byrrne 20 

905 Faii’-Haired Alda, The. By Flor- 
ence Marry at 20 

26.1 Fair Maid, A. By F. W. Robin- 
son 20 

417 Fair Maid of Perth, The; or, 

St. Valentine’s Day. By Sir 
Walter Scott 20 

626 Fair Mystery, A. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

727 Pair Women. By Mrs. Forrester 20 
30 Faith and Unfaith. By “The. 

Duchess’’ 20 

819 Fallen Idol, A. By F. Anstey. . . 20 
291 False Vow, The; or, Hilda. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “Dora Thorne ” 10 

928 False Vow, The; or, Hilda. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
of “Dora Thorne.” (Large 

type edition) 20 

543 Family Affair, A. By Hugh 
Conway, author of “ Called 

Back” 20 

338 Family Difficulty, The. By Sa- 
rah Doudney 10 

690 Far From the Madding Crowd. 

By Thomas Hardy 20 

798 Fashion of this World, The. By 

Helen B. Mathers 10 

680 Fast and Loose. By Arthur 

Griffiths 20 

246 Fatal Dower, A. By the Author 

of “ His Wedded Wife ” 20 

209 Fatal Lilies, The. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 10 

548 Fatal Marriage, A, and The ^ 
Shadow in the (.'orner. By 

Miss M. E. Braddon 10 

693 Felix Holt, the Radical. By 
George Eliot 20 


642 Fenton’s Quest. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

7 File No. 113. Emile Gaboriau ^ 

575 Finger of Fate, The. By Cap- 
tain Mayne Reid 20 

95 Fire Brigade, The. By R. M. 

Ballantyne 10 

674 First Pei-son Singular. By Da- 
vid Christie Murray 20 

199 Fishor Village, The. By Anne 


, Other Stories. By M. Betham- 

Edwards. 10 

745 For Another’s Sin ; or, A Strug- 
gle for Love. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

156 “For a Dream’s Sake.” By Mrs. 

Herbert Martin 20 

173 Foreigners, The. By Eleanor C. 

Price 20 

197 For Her Dear Sake. By Mary 

Cecil Hay 20 

150 For Himself Alone. By T. W. 

Speight 10 

278 For Life and Love. By Alison. 10 


608 For Lilias. By RosaNouchette 
Carey. 1st and 2d half, each 20 
712 For Maimie’s Sake. By Grant 


Allen 20 

586 “ For Percival.” By Margaret 

Veley 20 

171 Fortune’s Wheel. By “The 

Duchess” 10 

468 Fortunes, Good and Bad, of a 
Sewing-Girl, The. By Char- 
lotte M. Stanley 10 

216 Foul Play. By Charles Reade. 20 
438 Found Out. By Helen B. 

Mathers 10 

333 Frank Fairlegh; or. Scenes 
From the Life of a Private 
Pupil. By Frank E. Smedley 20 
805 Freres, The. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander. 1st half 20 

805 Freres, The. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander. 2d half 20 

226 Friendship. By “Ouida” 20 

288 From Gloom to Sunlight; or 
From Out the Gloom. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme 10 

955 From Gloom to Sunlight; or. 
From Out the Gloom. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme. (Large 

type edition) 20 

732 From Olympus to Hades. By 

Mrs. Forrester 20 

288 From Out the Gloom; or, From 
Gloom to Sunlight. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“Dora Thorne” 10 

955 From Out the Gloom; or. From 
Gloom to Sunlight. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme. (Large type 

edition) 20 

348 From Post to Finish. A Racing 
Romance, By Hawley Smart 


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THE SEASn)E LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


285 Gambler’s Wife, The 20 

971 Garrison Gossip: Gathered in 
Blankhampton. John Strange 

Winter 20 

772 Gascoyne, the Sandal-Wood 
Trader. By R. M. Ballantyne 20 
549 George Caulfield’s Journey. 

By Miss M. E. Braddon 10 

3C5 George Christy; or. The Fort- 
unes of a Minstrel. By Tony 

♦ so 

331 Gerald. By Eleanor C. Price.. 20 
208 Ghost of Charlotte Cray, The, 
and Other Stories. By Flor- 
ence Marryat 10 

613 Ghost’s Touch, The. By Wilkie 

Collins 10 

225 Giant’s Robe, The. By F. Anstey 20 
300 Gilded Sin, A, and A Bridge of 
liOve. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 


Thorne ’’ 10 

508 Girl at the Gate, The. By 

Wilkie Collins; 10 

954 Girl’s Heart, A. By the author 

of “Nobody’s Darling ’’ 20 

867 Girls of Feversham, The. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

644 Girton Girl, A. By Mrs. Annie 

Edwards 20 

140 Glorious Fortune, A. By Wal- 
ter Besant 10 

647 Goblin Gold. By May Crom- 

melin 10 

450 Godfrey Helstone. By Georgi- 

ana M. Craik 20 

972 Gold Elsie. By E. Marlitt 20 

911 Golden Bells: A Peal in Seven 
Changes. By R. E. Francillon 20 
153 Golden Calf, The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

306 Golden Dawn, A. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thoi’iie” 10 

656 Golden Flood, The. By R. E. 

Francillon and Wm. Senior.. 10 
172 “ Golden Girls.’’ 1^ Alan Muir 20 
292 Golden Heart, A. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne” 10 

916 Golden Hope, The. By W. Clark 

Russell 20 

667 Golden Lion of Granpere, The. 

By Anthony Trollope 20 

758 “Good-bye, Sweetheart!” By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

356 Good Hater, A. By Frederick 

Boyle 20 

801 Good-Natured Man, The. By 

Oliver Goldsmith 10 

710 Greatest Heiress in England, 

The. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

439 Great Expectations. By Charles 

Dickens 20 

135 Great Heiress, A : A Fortune in 
Seven Checks. By R. E. Fran- 
cillon 10 

244 Great Mistake, A. By the author 
of “Cherry” 20 


Great Treason, A. By Mary 

Hoppus. First half 20 

Great Treason, A. By Mary 

Hoppus. Second half 20 

Great Voyages and Great Navi- 
gators. Jules Verne. 1st half 20 
Great Voyages and Great Navi- 
gators. Jules Verne. 2d half 20 
Green Pastures and Piccadilly. 


By Wm. Black 20 

Griffith Gaunt; or. Jealousy. 

By Charles Reade 20 

Griselda. By the author of “ 4. 

Woman’s Love-Story” 20 

Guiding Star, A ; or. Lady Dam- 
er’s Secret. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 20 

Guilty River, The. By Wilkie 
Collins 20 

Haco the Dreamer. By William 

Sime 10 

Half-Way. An Anglo-French 

Romance 20 

Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover 20 
Hard Times. By Chas. Dickens 10 
Harry Heathcote of Gangoil. By 

Anthony Trollope 10 

Harry Lorrequer. By Charles 

Lever 20 

Harry Muir. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 
Harvest of Wild Oats, A. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

Haunted Chamber, The. By 

“The Duchess” 10 

Haunted Life. A; or. Her Terri- 
ble Sin. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne” 20 

Haunted Man, The. By Charles 

Dickens 10 

Hazel Kirke. By Marie Walsh 20 
He, by the author of “ King 
Solomon’s Wives ;” and A 
Siege Baby and Childhood’s 
Memories, hy J. S. Winter. . . 20 
Headsman, The; or. The Ab- 
baye des Vignerons. By J. 

Fenimore Cooper 20 

Head Station, The. By Mrs. 

Campbell-Praed 20 

Healey. By Jessie Fothergill. 20 
Heart and Science. By Wilkie 

Collins 20 

Heart of Jane Warner, The. By 

Florence Marryat 20 

Heart of Mid-Lothian, The, By 

Sir Walter Scott 20 

Hearts : Queen, Knave, and 
Deuce. By David Christie 

Murray 20 

Heiress of Hilldrop, The; or. 
The Romance of a Young 
Girl. By Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”... 20 
Heir of the Ages, The. By James 
Payu. 20 


170 

170 

751 

751 

138 

231 

677 

469 

896 

597 

668 

663 

84 

622 

191 

569 

873 

785 

958 

169 

533 

966 

385 

811 

572 

167 

444 

391 

695 

741 

# 

823 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition, 




689 Heir Presumptive, The, By 

Florence Marryat 20 

513 Helen Whitney’s Wedding, and 
Other Tales. By Mrs. Henry 

Wood 10 

535 Henrietta’s Wish; or. Domi- 
neering. By Charlotte M. 

Yonge 10 

806 Her Dearest Foe. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander. First half 20 

806 Her Dearest Foe. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander. Second half 20 

160 Her Gentle Deeds. By Sarah 

Tytler 10 

814 Heritage of Langdale, The. By 

Mrs. Alexander 20 

956 Her Johnnie. By Violet Whyte 20 
860 Her Lord and Master. By Flor- 
ence Marryat 20 

297 Her Marriage Vow; or, Hilary’s 
Folly. Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”.. . 10 
953 Her Marriage Vow; or, Hilary’s 
Folly. Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne.” 

(Large type edition) 20 

576 Her Martyrdom, By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

19 Her Mother’s Sin. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 10 

824 Her Own Doing. W. E. Norris 10 

958 Her Terrible Sin; or, A Haunted 
Life. By Charlotte M, Braeme, 
author of “ Dora Thorne ”.. . 20 
196 Hidden Perils. Maiy Cecil Hay 20 

518 Hidden Sin, The. A Novel 20 

933 Hidden Terror, A. By Mar^"^ 

Albert 20 

297 Hilar}' ’s Folly; or. Her Mar- 
riage Vow, By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne” 10 

958 Hilary’s Folly; or. Her Mar- 
riage Vow. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme. (Large type edition) 20 
294 Hilda; or. The False Vow. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

928 Hilda; or. The False Vow. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme. (Large 

type edition) 20 

658 History of a Week, The. By 

Mrs. L. B. Walford 10 

165 History of Henry Esmond, The, 

By William M. Thackeray. . . 20 
461 His Wedded Wife. By author 

of “ A Fatal Dower ” 20 

904 Holy Rose, The. ByWalterBe- 

sant 10 

378 Homeward Bound; or. The 

Chase. By J. F. Cooper 20 

379 Home as Found, (Sequel to 

“ Homeward Bound,”) ByJ. 

Fenimore Cooper 20 

800 Hopes a«d Fears; or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Spinster. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 1st half 20 


800 Hopes and Fears; or. Scenes 
from the Life of a Spinster. 
Charlotte M. Yonge. 2d half 20 
552 Hostages to Fortune. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

600 Houp-La. By John Strange 

Winter. (Illustrated) 10 

703 House Divided Against Itself, 

A. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

248 House on the Marsh, The. By 

F. Warden 10 

351 House on the Moor, The. By 

Mrs. Oliphant 20 

874 House Party, A. By “ Quid a ”. 10 
481 House That Jack Built, The. 

By Alison 10 

754 How to be Happy Though Mar- 
ried. By a Graduate in the 
University of Matrimony.... 20 
748 Hurrish : A Study. By the 


Hon. Emily Lawless 20 

198 Husband’s Story, A 10 


389 Ichabod. A Portrait, By Bertha 

Thomas 10 

188 Idonea. By Anne Beale 20 

807 If Love Be Love. D. Cecil Gibbs 20 
715 I Have Lived and Loved. Hy 

Mrs. Forrester 20 

762 Impressions of Theophrastus 

Such. By George Eliot 10 

303 Ingledew House. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne” 10 

796 In a Grass Country. By Mrs. 

H. Lovett Cameron 20 

304 In Cupid’s Net. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 10 

404 In Durance Vile, and Other 
Stories. By “ The Duchess ” 10 
324 In Luck at Last. By Walter 

Besant 10 

672 In Maremma. By “ Ouida,” 1st 

half . 20 

672 In Maremma, By “ Ouida.” 2d 

half 20 

604 Innocent: A Tale of Modem 
Life. By Mrs. Oliphant. First 

Half 20 

604 Innocent: A Tale of Modern 
Life. By Mrs. Oliphant. Sec- 
ond Half 20 

577 In Peril and Privation. By 

James Payn 10 

638 In Quarters with the 25th (The 
Black Horse) Dragoons. By 

J. S. Winter 10 

759 In Shallow Waters. By Annie 

Armitt 20 

39 In Silk Attire, By William Black 20 
738 In the Golden Days. By Edna 

Lyall 20 

682 In the Middle Watch. By W. 

Clark Russell 20 

452 In the West Countrie, May 
Crommelin ......... 20 


8 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


883 Introduced to Society. By Ham- 
ilton Aid6 10 

122 lone Stewart. By Mrs. E. Lynn 

Linton 20 

333 “ I Say No;” or, The Love-Let- 
ter Answered. By Wilkie Col- 


235 “ It is Never Too Late to Mend.” 

By Charles Reade 20 

28 Ivanhoe. By Sir Walter Scott. 20 

534 .Jack. By Alphonse Daudet 20 

752 Jackanapes, and Other Stories. 

By Juliana Horatio Ewing;. . . 10 
416 Jack Tier ; or, The Florida Reef. 

By J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

743 Jack’s Courtship. By W. Clark 

Russell. 1st half 20 

743 Jack’s Courtship. By W. Clark 

Russell. 2d half 20 

519 Janies Gordon.’s Wife, A Novel 20 
15 Jane Eyre. By Charlotte Bront6 20 
728 Janet’s Repentance. By George 

Eliot 10 

142 Jenifer. By Annie Thomas 20 

941 Jess. By H. Rider Haggard. . . 20 
841 Jet: Her Face or Her Fortune? 

By Mrs. Annie Edwards 10 

767 Joan. By Rhoda Broughton. . 20 
914 Joan Wentworth. By Katha- 
rine S. Macquoid 20 

357 John. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

203 John Bull and His Island. By 

MaxO’Rell 10 

289 John Bull’s Neighbor in Her 
True Light. By a “Brutal 

Saxon” 10 

11 John Halifax, Gentleman. By 

Miss Mulock 20 

309 John Holdsworth, Chief Mate. 

By W. Clark Russell 10 

694 John Maidment. By Julian 

Sturgis 20 

570 John Marchmont’s Legacy. By 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

488 Joshua Haggard’s Daughter. 

By Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

619 Joy; or, The Light of Cold- 
Home Ford. By May Crom- 

melin 20 

965 Judith Shakespeare: Her Love 
Affairs and Other Advent- 
ures. By William Black 20 

332 Judith Wynne. By author of 

“ Lady Lovelace ” 20 

80 June. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

561 Just As I Am ; or, A Living Lie. 

By Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

832 Kidnapped. By Robert Louis 

Stevenson 20 

857 Kildee; or. The Sphinx of the 
Red House. By Mary E. 

Bryan. First half 20 

857 Kildee; or. The Sphinx of the 
Red House. By Mary E. 
Bryan. Second half 30 


Kilmeny. By William Black.. 20 
King Arthur. Not a Love Story. 

By Miss Mulock 20 

King Solomon’s Mines. By H. 

Rider Haggard 30 

King Solomon’s Wives; or. The 
Phantom Mines. By Hj’der 

Ragged. (Illustrated) 2( 

Klytia: A Story of Heidelberg 
Castle. By George Taylor. .. 9( 

Lady Audley’s Secret. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20^ 

Lady Branksmere. By “ The 

Duchess” 20 

Lady Castlemaine’s Divorce ; or. 

Put Asunder. By Chailotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 20 

Lady Clare ; or'. The Master of 
the Forges. From the French 

of Georges Ohnet 10 

Lady Damer’s Secret; or, A 
Guiding Star. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 2t 

Lady Diana’s Pride. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

Lady Gay’s Pride; or. The Mi- 
ser’s Treasxire. By Mrs. Alex. 

McVeigh Miller 20 

Lady Gwendoline’s Dream. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “Dora Thorne” 10 

Lady Lovelace. By the author 

of “Judith Wynne” 20 

Lady Muriel’s Secret. By Jean ^ 

Middleman 20 * 

Lady of Lyons, The. Founded 
on the Play of that title by 

Lord Lytton *. 10 

Lady’s Mile, The. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

Lady Valworth’s Diamonds. By 

“The Duchess” 20 

Lady With the Rubies, The. By 

E. Marlitt. 20 

Lancaster's Choice. By Mrs. 

Alex. McVeigh Miller 20 

Lancelot Ward, M.P. By George 

Temple 10 

Land Leaguers, The. By An- 
thony Trollope 20 

Last Days at Apswich 10 

Last Days of Pompeii, The. By 
Bulwer Lytton 20 


Last of the Barons, The, By Sir 
E. Bulwer Lytton. 1st half. . 20 
Last of the Barons, The. By Sir 
E. Bulwer Lytton. 2d half.. 20 
Last of the Mohicans, The. By 

J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

Late Miss Hollingford, The. 

By Rosa Mulholland 10 

Laurel Vane; or. The Girls’ 
Conspiracy. By Mrs. Alex. 
McVeigh Miller 90 


126 

808 

753 

970 

435 

35 

733 

516 

219 

469 

931 

268 

305 

506 

155 

161 

497 

875 

652 

269 

599 

32 

684 

40 

130 

130 

60 

921 

267 


THE SEASIDE LIBRAKY— Pocket Edition. 


9 


Victor Hugo. 

Victor Hugo. 

By Mary Cecil 

or, The Rail- 
By Frank E. 


20 

20 

20 

20 


20 


455 Lazarus in London. By F. W 

Robinson 20 

830 Leah : A Woman of Fashion. 

By Mrs. Annie Edwards 20 

386 Led Astray ; or, “ La Petite 
Comtesse.” Octave Feuillet. 10 
353 Leerend of Montrose, A. By Sir 

Walter Scott 20 

164 Leila ; or. The Siege of Grenada 

By Buhver Lytton 10 

885 Les Mis6rables. Victor Hugo. 

Parti 

885 Les Mis6rables. 

•: Part II 

885 Les Mis6rables. 

Partin 

408 Lester’s Secret. 

Hay 

562 Lewis Arundel; 
road of Life. 

Smedley 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 
Chuzzlewdt. By Charles Dick- 
ens. First half 20 

437 Life and Adventures of Martin 
Chuzzlewit. By Charles Dick- 
ens. Second half 20 

774 Life and Travels of Mungo 

Park, The 10 

698 Life’s Atonement, A. By David 

Christie Murray 20 

617 Like Dian’s Kiss. By “ Rita ”. 20 
807 Like no Other Love. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 10 

402 Lilliesleaf : or. Passages in the 
Life of Mrs. Margaret Mait- 
land of Sunnyside. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

397 Lionel Lincoln : or, The Leaguer 
of Boston. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

94 Little Donit; By Charles Dick- 
ens. First half 20 

94 Little Dorrit. By Charles Dick- 
ens. Second half 20 

279 Little Goldie : A Story of Wom- 
an’s Love. By Mrs. Sumner 

Hayden 20 

109 Little Loo. By W. Clark Russell 20 
179 Little Make-Believe. By B. L. 

Farjeon 10 

45 Little Pilgrim, A. By Mrs. Oli- 
phant 10 

272 Little Savage, The. By Captain 

Marryat 10 

111 Little School-master Mark, The. 

By J. H. Shorthouse 10 

899 Little Stepson, A. By Florence 

Marryat 10 

878 Little Tu’penny. ByS. Baring- 

Gould 10 

804 Living or Dead. By Hugh Con- 
way, author of “Called Back ’’ 20 
919 Locksley Hall Sixty Years Af- 
ter, etc. By Alfred, Lord 

Tennyson, P.L., D.C.L 10 

f97 Look Before You Leap. By 
Mrs. Aleatander 20 


92 Lord Lynne’s Choice. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“Dora Thorne’’ 10 

749 Lord Vanecourt’s Daughter. By 

Mabel Collins 20 

67 Lorna Doone. ,By R. D. Black- 

more. First half 20 

67 Lorna Doone. By R. D. Black- 
more. Second half 20 


473 Lost Son, A. By Mary Linskill. 10' 
354 Lottery of Life, The. A Story 
of New York Twenty Years 


Ago. By John Brougham... 20 
453 Lottery Ticket, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey 20 

479 Louisa. By Katharine S. Mac- 

quoid 20 

742 Love and Life. By Charlotte 

M. Yonge 20 

273 Love and Mirage ; or. The Wait- 
ing on an Island. By M. 
Betham-Ed wards 10 


232 Love and Money; or, A Peril- 
ous Secret. By Chas. Reade. 10 
146 Love Finds the Way, and Other 
Stories. By Walter Besant 

and James Rice 10 

306 Love for a Day. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne’’ 10 

313 Lover’s Creed, The, By Mrs. 

Cashel-Hoey 20 

893 Love’s Conflict. By Florence 

Marryat. First half 20 

893 Love’s Conflict. By Florence 

Marrj’^at. Second half 20 

573 Love’s Harvest. B. L. Farjeon 20 
949 Love’s Hidden Depths; or, 
Claribel’s Love Story. By 


Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ’’ 20 

175 Love’s Random Shot. By Wilkie 

Collins 10 

757 Love’s Martyr. By Laurence 

Alma Tadema 10 

291 Love’s Warfare. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ’’ 10 

73 Love’s Victory; or. Redeemed 
by Love. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne’’ 20 

118 Loys, Lord Berresford, and 
Eric Dering. “ The Duchess ” 10 
582 Lucia, Hugh and Another. By 

Mrs. J. H. Needell 20 

589 Luck of the Darrells, The. By 

James Pay n 20 

901 Lucky Disappointment, A. By 

Florence Marrj'at 10 

370 Lucy Orof ton. By Mrs. Oliphant 10 


44 Macleod of Dare. Wm. Black. 20 
526 Madame De Presnel. By E. 

Frances Poynter .• 20 

345 Madam. By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

78 Madcap Violet. By Wm. Black W 


10 


THE SEASIDE LIBIIARY— Pocket Edition. 


610 Mad Love, A. By the author of 

“Lover and Lord” 10 

69 Madoliu’s Lover. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne” 20 

341 Madolin Rivers; or, The Little 
Beauty of Red Oak Seminary. 

By Laura Jean Libbey 20 

877 Magdalen Hepburn : A Stotry of 
the Scottish Reformation. By 

Mrs. Oliphant 20 

494 Maiden All Forlorn, A, and Bar- 
bara. By “ The Duchess ”... 10 
64 Maiden Fair, A. Charles Gibbon 10 
121 Maid of Athens. By Justin 

McCarthy 20 

6:13 Maid of ^ker. The. By R. D. 

Blackmore. 1st half 20 

633 Maid of Sker, The. By R. D. 

Blackmore. 2d half 20 

229 Maid, Wife, or Widow? By 

Mrs. Alexander 10 

803 Major Frank. By A. L. G. Bos- 

boom-Toussaint 20 

702 Man and Wife. By Wilkie Col- 
lins. First half 20 

702 Man and Wife. By Wilkie Col- 
lins. Second half 20 

277 Man of His Word, A. By W. 

E. Norris 10 

688 Man of Honor, A. By John 

Strange Winter. Illustrated. 10 
217 Man She Cared For, The. By 

F. W. Robinson 20 

371 Margaret Maitland. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

755 Margery Daw. A Novel 20 

922 Marjorie. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

451 Market Harborough, and Inside 
the Bar. G. J. Whyte-Melville 20 
773 Mark of Cain, The. By Andrew 

Lang 10 

334 Marriage of Convenience, A. 

By Harriett Jay 10 

480 Married in Haste. Edited by 

Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

476 Married in Haste; or. Between 
Two Sins. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 
Thorne” 20 

615 Mary Anerley. By R. D. Black- 

more 20 

132 Master Humphrey’s Clock. By 

Charles Dickens 10 

646 Master of the Mine, The. By 

Robert Buchanan 20 

825 Master Passion, The. By Flor- 
ence Marryat 20 


678 Mathias Sandorf. By Jules 

Verne. (Illustrated.) Parti. 10 
678 Mathias Sandorf. By Jules 

Verne. (Illustrated.) Part II 10 
578 Mathias Sandorf. By Jules 

Verne*. (Illustrated.) Part III 10 
398 Matt: A Tale of a Caravan. 

By Robert Buchanan 10 


Mauleverer’s Millions. By T. 

Wemyss Reid 1 20 

May Blossom ; or,^Between Two 

Loves. By Margaret Lee 20 

Mayor of Casterbridge, The. By 

Thomas Hardy 20 

Memoirs and Resolutions of 
Adam Graeme of Mossgray, 
including some Chronicles of 
the Borough of Fendie. By 

Mrs. Oliphant 20 

Mental Struggle, A. By “The 

Duchess” 2(* 

Mercedes of Castile; or. The 
Voyage to Cathay. By J. Feh- 

imore Cooper 26 

Merchant’s Clerk, The. By Sam- 
uel Warren If 

Merry Men, The, and Other Tales 
and Fables. By Robert Louis 

Stevenson 20 

Middlemarch. By George Eliot. 

First half 20 

Middlemarch. By George Eliot. 

Second half 20 

Midnight Sun, The. ByFredrika 

Bremer 10 

Midshipman, The, Marmaduke 
Merry. Wm. H. G. Kingston. 20 
Miguon. By Mrs. Fori’ester. . . 20 
Mignon ; or, Booties’ Baby, By 

J. S. Winter. Illustrated 10 

Mignon’s Secret. John Strange 

Winter 10 

Mikado, The, and otlier Comic 
Operas. Written by W. S. 
Gilbert. Composed by Arthur 

Sullivan 20 

Mildred Trevanion. By “ The ♦ 

Duchess ” 10 

Miles Wallingford. (Sequel to 
“ Afloat and Ashore.”) By J. 

Fenimore Cooper 20 

Mill on the Floss, The. By 

George Eliot 20 

Miller’s Daughter, The; or. The 
Belle of Lynn. By Charkjtte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

Dlilly’s Hero. By F, W. Robinson 20 

Millionaire, The 20 

Minister’s Wife, The. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 30 

Miss Brown. By Vernon Lee. . 20 
Miss Bretherton. By Mrs. Hum- 
phry Ward 10 

Miss Harrington’s Husband ; or. 
Spiders of Society. By Flor- 
ence Mari-y at " 20 

Miss Tommy. By Miss Mulock 10 
Mistletoe Bough, The. Edited 

by Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

Mistletoe Bough, The. Christ- 
mas, 1885. Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

Mistletoe Bough, The. Christ- 
mas, 1886; Edited by Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 


728 

330 

791 

337 

771 

424 

406 

940 

31 

31 

187 

763 

729 

492 

876 

692 

390 

414 

3 

929 

157 

182 

205 

399 

369 

866 

245 

315 

618 

800 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


11 


?98 Mitcheihurst Place. By Marga- 
ret Veley . 

584 Mixed Motives 

887 Modern Telemachus, A. By 

CliarlottB M. Yonge 

881 Mohawks. MissM. E. Braddon. 

1st and 2d half, each 

2 Molly Bawn. ‘‘The Duchess ” 
159 Moment of Madness, A. By 

Florence Marryat 

125 Monarch of Mincing Lane, The. 

By William Black 

901 Monastery, The. By Sir Walter 

Scott 

119 Monica, and A Rose Distill’d. 

By “The Duchess ” 

431 Monikins, The. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. By Emile 

Gaboriau. Vol. I 

26 Monsieur Lecoq. By Emile 

Gaboriau. Vol. II 

166 Moonshine and Marguerites. 

By “The Duchess” 

102 Moonstone, The. Wilkie Collins 
303 More Bitter than Death. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 

178 More Leaves from the Journal 
of a Life in the Highlands. 

By Queen Victoria 

116 Moths. By “Ouida” 

495 Mount Royal. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 

501 Mr. Butler’s Ward. By F. Mabel 

Robinson 

113 Mrs. Carr’s Companion. By M. 

G. Wightwick 

675 Mrs. Dymond. By Miss Thacke- 
ray 

25 Mrs. Geoffrey. “ The Duchess.” 

(Large type edition) 

9.50 Mrs. Geoffrey. “The Duchess” 
606 5Irs. Hollyer. By Georgiana M. 

Craik 

546 Mrs. Keith’s Crime 

440 Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings. By 

Charles Dickens 

645 Mrs. Smith of Longmains. By 

Rhoda Broughton 

339 Mrs. Vereker's Courier Maid. 

By Mrs. Alexander 

256 Mr. Smith : A Part of His Life. 

By B. L. Walford 

635 Murder or Manslaughter? By 

Helen B. Mathers 

696 My Ducats and My Daughter. 
By the author of “ The Crime 

of Christmas Day” 

848 My Friend Jim. By W. E. Norris 
405 My Friends and I. Edited by 

Julian Sturgis 

726 My Hero. By Mrs. Forrester.. 
799 My Lady Green Sleeves. By 

Helen B. Mathers 

623 My Lady’s Money. By Wilkie 

Collins 

724 My Lord and My Lady. By 
Mrs. Forrester. 


863 “ My Own Child.” By Florence 

Marryat 20 

504 My Poor Wife. By the author 

of “ Addie’s Husband ” 10 

433 My Sister Kate. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 10 

861 My Sister the Actress. By Flor- 
ence Marry at 20 

271 Mysteries of Paris, The. By Eu- 
gene Sue. Parti 20 

271 Mysteries of Paris, The. By Eu- 
gene Sue. Part II 20 

366 Mysterious Hunter, The; or. 
The Man of Death. By Capt. 

L. C. Carleton 20 

255 Mystery, The. By Mrs. Henry 

Wood 20 

662 Mystery of Allan Grale, The. By 

Isabella Fy vie Mayo 20 

969 Mystery of Colde Fell, The; or, 
Not Proven. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

454 Mystery of Edwin Drood, The. 

By Chas. Dickens 20 

514 Mystery of Jessy Page, The, 
and Other Tales. By Mrs. 

Henry Wood 1^ 

43 Mystery of Orcival, The. By 

Emile Gaboriau 20 

725 My Ten Years’ Imprisonment. 

By Silvio Pellico 10 

612 My Wife’s Niece. By the author 

of “Doctor Edith Romney ”. 20 
666 My Young Alcides. By Char- 
lotte M. Yonge 20 

574 Nabob, The: A Story of Paris- 
ian Life and Manners. By Al- 

plionse Daudet 20 

227 Nancy. By Rhoda Broughton. 20 
509 Nell Haffehden. By Tighe Hop- 
kins 20 

936 Nellie’s Blemories. By Rosa 
Nouchette Carey. 1st and 2d 

half, each 20 

181 New Abelard, The. By Robert 

Buchanan 10 

8,56 New Arabian Nights. By Rob- 
ert Louis Stevenson 20 

464 Newcomes, The. By William 
Makep'eace Thackeray. Part 

1 20 

464 Newcomes, The. By William 
Makepeace Thackera 3 ^ Part 

II 20 

52 New Magdalen, The. By Wilkie 

Collins p 10 

37 Nicholas Nickleby. B^- Charles 

Dickens. First half 20 

37 Nicholas Nickleby. By Charles 

Dickens. Second half 20 

909 Nine of Hearts, The. By B. L.^ 


105 Noble Wife, A. John Saunders 20 
864 “ No Intentions.” By Florence 

Marryat 30 

565 No Medium. By Annie Thomas W 


10 

10 

20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

10 

10 

20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

10 

20 

10 

10 

10 

10 

20 

10 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

10 

20 


12 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


290 Nora’s Love Test. By Mary 


Cecil Hay 20 

595 North Country Maid, A. By 

Mrs. H. Lovett Cameron 20 

812 No Saint. By Adeline Sergeant 20 
168 No Thoroughfare. By Dickens 

and Collins 10 

215 Not Like Other Girls. By Rosa 

Nouchette Carey 20 

969 Not Proven; or, The Mystery 
of Colde Fell. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “Dora 
Thorne ’’ 20 

765 Not Wisely, But Too Well. By 

Rhoda Broughton 20 

614 No. 99. By Arthur Griffiths... 10 

766 No. XIII. ; or. The Story of the 

Lost Vestal. Emma Marshall 10 
640 Nuttie’s Father. By Charlotte 
M. Yonge 20 


425 Oak-Openings, The; or. The 
Bee-Hunter. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

211 Octoroon, The. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 10 

188 Old Contrairy, and Other Sto- 
ries. By Florence Marryat.. 10 
10 Old Curiosity Shop, The. By 

Charles Dickens 20 

410 Old Lady Mary. By Mrs. Oli- 
phant 10 

858 Old Ma’m’selle’s Secret. By E. 

Marlitt 20 

72 Old Myddelton’s Money. By 

Mary Cecil Hay 20 

645 Oliver’s Bride. By Mrs. Oliphant 10 
41 Oliver Twist. By Chas. Dickens 20 

605 Ombra. . By Mrs. Oliphant 20 

280 Omnia Vanitas. A Tale of So- 
ciety. By Mrs. Forrester 10 

883 Once Again. By Mrs. Forrester 20 
143 One False, Both Fair. By John 

B. Harwood 20 

342 One New Year’s Eve. By “ The 

Duchess” 10 

840 One Thing Needful; or, The 
Penalty of Fate. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon. . 20 

884 On Horseback Through Asia 

Minor. By Captain Fred Bur- 
naby 20 

498 Only a Clod. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

496 Only a Woman. Edited by Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

655 Open Door, The. By Mrs. Oli- 

pbant .•*: 10 

708 Ormond. By Maria Edgeworth 20 
12 Other People’s Money. By 

Emile Gaboriau 20 

639 0th mar. By“Ouida.” 1st and 
2d half, each 20 

859 Ottilie: An Eighteenth Century 

Idyl, and The Prince of the 100 

Soups. By Vernon Lee 20 

•38 Ought We to Visit Her? By 
Mrs. Annie Edwards 20 


131 Our Mutual Friend. By Charles 

Dickens. First Jialf,r 20 

131 Our Mutual Friend. BVpharles 

Dickens. Secpnd_balfT 20 

747 Our Sensation ‘Novel. Edited 

by Justin H. McC^Cthy, M.P. 10 
925 Outsider, The. Hawley' Smart 20 
870 Out of His Reckoning. By Flor- 
ence Marr3’^at 10 

530 Pair of Blue Eyes, A. By Thom- 
as Hardy : 20., 

587 Parson o’ Dumford, The. By 

G. Manville Fenn 20 

238 Pascarel. By “Ouida” 20 


822 Passion Flower, A. A Novel.:. 20 
517 Passive Crime, A, and Other 
Stories. By “ The Duchess ” 10 
886 Pastoii Carew, Millionaire and 
Miser. Mrs. E. Lynn Linton. 20 
309 Pathfinder, The. By J. Feni- 


mpre Cooper 20 

720 Paul Clifford. By Sir E. Bulwer 

Lytton, Bart 20 

571 Paul Carew’s Story. By Alice 

Comyns Carr 10 

525 Paul Vargas, and Other Stories. 

By Hugh Conway, author of 

“Called Back” 10 

449 Peeress and Player. By Flor- 
ence Marr3’at 20 

613 Perc.v and the Prophet. By 

AVilkie Collins 10 

776 P6re Goriot. By H..De Balzac 20 

314 Peril. B.y Jessie Fothergill 20 

965 Periwinkle. By Arnold Gray. . 20 
568 Perpetual Curate, The. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

133 Peter the WHialer. By William 

H. G. Kingston 10 

868 Petronel. By Florence Marryat 20 
392 Peveril of the Peak. By Sir 

AValter Scott 20 

326 Phantastes. A Faerie Romance 
for Men and AVomen. By 

George Macdonald 10 

56 Phantom Fortune. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

845 Philip Earnscliffe; or. The Mor- 
als of May Fair. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards 20 

336 Philistia. By Cecil Power 20 

669 Philosophy of AVhist, The. B3'^ 
AATlliam Pole 20 


903 Phyllida. By Florence Marryat 20 
16 Phyllis. B.y “ The Duchess ”. . 20 
372 Phyllis’ Probation. B.y the au- 
thor of “ His AA^edded AVife ”. 10 
537 Piccadilly. Laurence Oliphant 10 
24 Pickwick Pc^iers. By Charles 


Dickens. Vol. 1 20 

24 Pickwick Papers. B3’' Charles 

Dickens. Vol. II 20 

448 Pictures From Ital5% and The 
Mudfog Papers, &c. By Chas. 

Dickens 20 

206 Picture, The, and Jack of All 
Trades. By Charles Beade. 10 


THE SEASIDE LIBRAEY— Pocket Edition. 


13 


JJ64 Pi6doxi(nie, a French Detective. 

By Fortune Du Boisgobey... 10 
818 Pioneers, The ; or, The Sources 
of tl>e. Snsquehanna. By J. 

Fenimbre Cooper 20 

393 Pirate, The. By Sir Walter Scott 20 
850 PlaywrightV Daughter, A. By 

Mrs.^Atinie Edwards 10 

818 Pluck, By John Strange Winter 10 
869 Poison of Asps, The. By Flor- 
ence Marry at....; 10 

836 Point of Hon6r, A. By Mrs. An- 

- nie Edwards 20 

• 329 Polish Jew, The. (Translated 
from the French by Caroline 
A. Merighi.) By Erckmann- 

Chatrian 10 

831 Pomegranate Seed, By the au- 
thor of “ The Two Miss Flem- 
ings,” etc 29 

902 Poor Gentleman, A. By Mrs. 

Oliphant 20 

325 Portent, The. By George Mac- 
donald 10 

6 Portia. By “The Duchess ”... 20 
655 Portrait, The. By Mrs. Oliphant 10 
558 Poverty Corner. By G. Manville 

Fenn 20 

310 Prairie, The. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

422 Precaution. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

828 Prettiest Woman in Warsaw, 

The. By Mabel Collins 20 

697 Pretty Jailer, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey. 1st half 20 

697 Pretty Jailer, The. By F. Du 

Boisgobey, 2d half 20 

207 Pretty Miss Neville. By B. M. 

Croker 20 

475 Prima Donna’s Husband, The. 

By F. Du Boisgobey 20 


631 Prime Minister, The. By An- 
thony Trollope. First Half.. 20 
531 Prime Minister, The. By An- 


thony Trollope. Second Half 20 
624 Primus in Indis. By M. J. Col- 

quhoun 10 

249 “ Prince Charlie’s Daughter,” 

By Charlotte M. Braeme, au- 
thor of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

656 Prince of Darkness, A, By F. 

Warden 20 

859 Prince of the 100 Soups, The. 

Edited by Vernon Lee 20 


704 Prince Otto. R. L. Stevenson. 10 
355 Princess Dagomar of Poland, 

The. Heinrich Felbermann. 19 
228 Princess Napraxine. “ Ouida ” 20 
23 Princess of Thule, A. By Will- 


iam Black 20 

88 Privateersman, The. By Cap- 
tain Marryat 20 

321 Prodigals, The: And Their In- 
heritance. By Mrs. Oliphant. 10 
844 Professor, The. By Charlotte 

Bront6 20 

144 Promises of Marriage. By Emile 
Qaboriau.. 10 


260 Proper Pride. By B. M. Croker 10 
947 Publicans and Sinners; or, Lu- 


cius Davoren. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon. First half 20 

947 Publicans and Sinnei’s; or, Lu- 
cius Davoren, By Miss M, E. 

Braddon. Second half 20 

912 Pure Gold. By Mrs, H. Lovett 
Cameron. In Two Parts, each 20 
516 Put Asunder; or. Lady Castle- 
maine’s Divorce. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“Dora Thorno” 20 

487 Put to the Test. Edited by 

Miss M, E. Braddon 20 

214 Put Yourself in His Place. By 
Charles Reade 20 

68 Queen Amongst Women, A. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “Dora Thorne” 10 

932 Queenie’s Whim. ByRosaNou- 

chette Carey. 1st half 20 

932 Queenie’s Whim. ByRosaNou- 

chette Carey. 2d half 20 

591 Queen of Hearts, The. By Wil- 
kie Collins 20 

641 Rabbi’s Spell, The, By Stuart 

C. Cumberland 10 

147 Rachel Ray. By Anthony Trol- 
lope 20 

661 Rainbow Gold. By David Chris- 
tie Murray 20 

433 Rainy June, A. By “ Ouida ” . . 10 

700 Ralph tho Heir. By Anthony 

Trollope. First half .’. 20 

('(X) Ralph the Heir. By Anthony 

Trollope. Second half 20 

815 Ralph Wilton’s Weird. By Mrs. 

Alexander 10 

442 Ranthorpe. By George Henry 

Lewes 20 

780 Rare Pale Margaret. By the au- 


tlior of “ What’s His Offence?” 20 
327 Raymond’s Atonement. (From 
the German of E. Werner.) 


By Christina Tyrrell 20 

210 Readiana: Comments on Cur- 
rent Events. By Chas. Reade 10 
768 Red as a Rose is She. By Rhoda 

Broughton .' 20 

918 Red Band, The. By F. Du Bois- 
gobey. First half 20 

918 Red Band, The. By F. Du Bois- 
gobey. Second half 20 

381 Red Cardinal, The. By Frances 

Elliot 10 

73 Redeemed by Love; or. Love’s 
Victory. By Charlotte * M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

89 Red Eric, The. By R. M. Ballan- 

tyne 10 

463 Redgauntlet. By Sir Walter 

Scott 20 

580 Red Route, The, By William 

Sime 20 

361 Red Rover, The. A Tale of the 
Sea, By J, Fenimore Cooper 20 


14 


THE seaside LIBRARY— Pocket- EtuTioiT. 


421 Redskins, The; or, Indian and 
Injin, Bein? the conclusion 


of the Littlepage Manuscripts. 

By J. Feuimore Cooper 20 

427 Remarkable History of Sir 
Thomas Upmore, Bart., M.P., 
The. Formerly known as 
“ Tommy Upmore.” By R. 

D. Blackmore 20 

23!^ Repented at Leisure. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
” Dora Thorne.” (Large type 

edition) 20 

9G7 Repented at Leisure. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
” Dora Thorne ” 10 

740 Rhona. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

375 Ride to Khiva, A. By Captain 

Fred Burnaby, of the Royal 

Horse Guards 20 

816 Rogues and Vagabonds, By 
George R. Sims, author of 

396 Robert Ord’s Atonement. By 

Rosa Nouchette Carey 20 

190 Romance of a Black Veil. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 
ot ‘‘Dora Thorne” 10 

741 Romance of a Young Girl, The; 

or. The Heiress of Hilldrop. 

By Charlotte M. Braeme 20 

66 Romance of a Poor Y oung Man, 

The. By Octave Feuillet 10 

139 Romantic Adventures of a Milk- 
maid, The. By Thomas Hardy 10 
898 Romeo and Juliet: A Tale of 
Two Young Fools. By Will- 
iam Black 20 

42 Romola. By George Eliot 20 

360 Ropes of Sand. By R. E. Francil- 

lon 20 

664 Rory O’More. By Samuel Lover 20 
193 Rosary Folk, The. By G. Man- 

ville Fenn 10 

670 Rose and the Ring, The. By 
W. M. Thackeray. Illustrated 10 
119 Rose Distill’d, A. By ‘‘The 

Duchess” 10 

103 Rose Fleming. By Dora Russell 10 
296 Rose in Thorns, A. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“Dora Thorne” 10 

129 Rossmoyne. By ‘‘The Duchess” 10 
180 Round the Galley Fire. By W. 

Clark Russell 10 

566 Royal Highlanders, The; or. 
The Black Watch in Egypt. 

By James Grant 20 

736 Rny and Viola. Mrs. Forrester 20 
409 Roy’s Wife. By G. J. Whyte- 

Melville 20 

489 Rupert Godwin. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 

457 Russians at the Gates of Herat, 

The. By Charles Marvin . ... 10 

862 Sabina Zembra. William Black 20 
616 Sacred Nugget, The. By B. L. 
Farjeou 20 


Sailor’s Sweetheart, 'A.. By W, 

Clark Russell 20 

Salem Chapel. By Mrs. Olltobanfc 20 
Sam’s Sweetheart. . By Helen 

B. Mathers >, 20 

Satanstoe; or. The Lfttlepage 
Manuscripts. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 20 

Scottish Chiefs, The. ..By Miss 

Jane Porter. Istvhalf .... 20 

Scottish Chiefs, The. By Miss 
Jane Porter. 2d. half -.20 


Sculptor’s Daughter, The. By 
F. Du Boisgobey. ’ 1st half ... 20 
Sculptor’s Daughter, The. Ry 
F. Du Boisgobey. 2d half...... . 20 

Sea Change, A. By Flora L. 


Shaw 20 

Sealed Lips, F. Du Boisgobey! 20' 

Sea Lions, The; or. The Lost 

Sealers. By J. F. Cooper 20 

Sea Queen, A. By W. Clark 

Russell 20 

Second Life, A. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander 20 

Second Thoughts. By Rhoda 

Broughton 20 

Secret Dispatch, The. By James 

Grant 10 

Secret of Her Life, The. By Ed- 
ward Jenkins 20 

Secret ©f the Cliffs, The. By 
Charlotte French 20 

Self-Doomed. By B, L. Farjeon 10 
“ Self or Bearer.” By Walter 


Serapis. By George Ebers 20 

Set in Diamonds. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of ” Dora 

Thorne” 20 

Shadow in the Corner, The. B 3 ’^ 

Miss M. E. Braddon 10 

Shadow of a Crime, The. By 

Hall Caine 20 

Shadow of a Sin, The. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

‘‘Dora Thorne” 10 

Shadow of a Sin, The. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme. (Large type 

edition) 20 

Shandon Bells. By Wm. Black 20 
She: A History of Adventure. 

By H. Rider Haggard 20 

She Loved Him ! By Annie 

Thomas ! 10 

She's All the World to Me. By 

Hall Caine 10 

She Stoops to Conquer, and 
The Good-Natured Man. By 

Oliver Goldsmith 10 

Sbirlej'. By Charlotte Brontfi. 20 

Signa. By‘‘Ouida” 20 

Silas Marner: The Weaver of 
Raveloe. By George Eliot, . . 10 
Silent Shore, The. By John 

Blouudelle-Buiion 20 

Silvermead. By Jeau Middle- 
mas 20 


223 

177 

795 

420 

660 

660 

699 

699 

441 

82 

423 

85 

490 

101 

781 

810 

387 

607 

651 

474 

792 

548 

445 

293 

948 

18 

910 

141 

520 

801 

57 

239 

707 

913 

539 


THE SEASIDE LIBKARY— Pocket Edition. 


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681 Singer’s Story, A. By May 

Laffan 10 

252 Sinles^Beorfet, A. By “Rita” 10 

283 Sin of a ^jifetime, The. By 
Charlotte >M. Bj-aeme, author 

pf “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

515 Sir Jasper’s Tenant. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

643 Sketch-hopk of Geoffrey Cray- 
on, Gent, The. By Washing- 
ton Irving-. 20 

4.56 Sketches 'by ,Boz. Illustrative 
of Every-day Life and Every- 
day People. By Charles Dick- 
ens 20 

601 Slings and Arrows, and other 
' Stoyies. By Hugh Conway, 
author of “Called Back”... 10 
491 Society in London. By a For- 
eign Resident 10 

505 Society of London, The. By 

Count Paul Vasili 10 

778 Society’s Verdict. By the au- 
thor of “ My Marriage ” 20 

114 Some of Our Girls. By Mrs. C. 

J. Eiloart 20 


412 Some One Else. By B. M. Croker 20 
194 “So Neai’, and Yet So Far!” 

By Alison 10 

880 Son of His Father, The. By 

Mrs. Oli pliant 20 

368 SouthernStar, The;or, TheDia-* 
mond Laud. By Jules Verne 20 
926 Springhaveu. R. D. Blackmore 20 
63 Spy, The. J. Fenimore Cooper 20 
281 Squire’s Legacj’, The. By Mary 


Cecil Hay 20 

817 Stabbed in the Dark. By Mrs. 

E. Lynn Linton 10 

895 Star and a Heart, A. By Flor- 
ence Marry at 10 

158 Starling, The. By Norman 

Macleod, D.D 10 

436 Stella. By Fanny Lewald 20 

802 Stern Chase, A. By Mrs.Cashel- 

Hoey 20 

846 Steven Lawrence. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards. 1st half 20 

846 Steven Lawren'ce. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards. 2d half 20 

145 “ Storm-Beaten :” God and The 

Man. By Robert Buchanan. 20 
673 Story of a Sin. By Helen B. 

Mathers 20 

610 Story of Dorothy Grape, The, 
and Other Tales. By Mrs. 
Henry Wood 10 


53 Story of Ida, The. By Francesca 10 
50 Strange Adventures of a Phae- 
ton, The. By William Black. 20 
756 Strange Adventures of Captain 


Dangerous, The. By George 

Augustus Sala 20 

686 Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and 
Mr. Hyde. By Robert Louis 

Stevenson 10 

624 Strangers and Pilgrims. By 
Miss M. E. Braddoa 20 


83 Strange Story, A. By Sir E. 

Bulwer Lytton 20 

592 Strange Voyage, A. By W. 

Clark Russell 20 

511 Strange World, A. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 20 

418 St. Ronan’s Well. By Sir Walter 

Scott 20 

550 Struck Down. By Hawley Smart 10 
467 Struggle for a Ring, A. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora 'fhorne ” 20 

71 Struggle for Fame, A. By Mrs. 

J. H. Riddell 20 

745 Struggle for Love, A; or. For 
Another’s Sin. By Charlotte 
M. Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 20 

964 Struggle for the Bight, A; or. 

Tracking the Truth 20 

222 Sun-Maid, The. By Miss Grant 20 
21 Sunrise : A Story of These Times 

By Wm. Black 20 

250 Sunshine and Roses ; or, Diana’s 
Discipline. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “Dora 

Thorne” 10 

277 Surgeon’s Daughters, The, by 
Mrs. Henry Wood. A Man of 
His Word, by W. E. Norris. . . 10 
363 Surgeon’s Daughter, 'Ihe. By 

Sir Walter Scott 10 

844 Susan Fielding. By Mrs. Annie 

Edwards , 20 

927 Sweet Cymbeline. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” . . .t 20 

123 Sweet is True Love. By “ The 

Duchess ” 10 

316 Sworn to Silence; or. Aline 
Rodney’s Secret. By Mrs. 
Alex. McVeigh Miller 20 


559 Taken at the Flood. By Miss 

M. E. Braddon 20 

117 Tale of the Shore and Ocean, A. 

By William H. G. Kingston.. 20 
77 Tale of Two Cities, A. By 

• Charles Dickens 20 

313 Talk of the Town, The. By 

James Payn 20 

213 Terrible Temptation, A. By 

da 

696 Thaddeus of Warsaw. By Miss 

Jane Porter 20 

49 That Beautiful Wretch. By 

William Black 20 

136 “That Last Rehearsal,” and 
Other Stories. By “ The 

Duchess” 10 

915 That Other Person. By Mrs. Al- 
fred Hunt. Two Parts, each 20 
355 That Terrible Man. By W. E. 

Norris 10 

892 That Winter Night; or, Loye's 
Victory. Robert Buchanan. . 10 
48 Thicker Than Water. By James 
Fajn 29 


16 


THE SEASIDE LIBRAIIY— Pocket Edition. 


184 Thirlby Hall. By W. E. Norris 
148 Thorns and Orange-Blossoms. 
By Chai'lotte M. Braeme, au- 
thor of “ Dora Thorne ” 

275 Three Brides, The. By Char- 
lotte M. Yonge 

775 Three Clerks, The. By Anthony 

Trollope 

124 Three Feathers. By Wm. Black 
55 Three Guardsmen, The. By 

Alexander Dumas 

382 Three Sisters; or. Sketches of 
a Highly Original Family. 
By Elsa D’Esteri-e-Keeling. . . 
789 Through the Looking-Glass, 
and What Alice Found There. 
By Lewis Carroll. With fifty 
illustrations by John Tenniel. 
471 Thrown on the World. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 

883 Ticket No. ‘-9672.” By Jules 

Verne.- First half 

833 Ticket No. “ 9672.” By Jules 

Verne. Second half 

367 Tie and Trick. By Hawley Smart 
485 Tinted Vapours. By J.Maclaren 

Cobban 

503 Tinted Venus, The. By F. Anstey 
120 Tom Bi’own’s School Days at 
Rugby. By Thomas Hughes. 
243 Tom Burke of “Ours.” By 
Charles Lever. First half... 
243 Tom Burke of “Ours.” By 
Charles Lever. Second half. 
557 To the Bitter End. By Miss M. 

E. Braddon 

879 Touchstone of Peril, The. By 

R. E. Forrest 

888 Treasure Island. Robert Louis 

Stevenson 

853 True Magdalen, A. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 

945 Trumpet-Major, The. Thomas 

Hardy 

846 Tumbledown Farm. By Alan 

Muir 

100 20,000 Leagues Under the Seas. 

By Jules Verne 

75 Twenty Years After. By Alex- 
ander Dumas 

714 ’Twixt Love and Duty. By 

Tighe Hopkins 

924 ’Twixt Smile and Tear. Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 

349 Two Admirals, The. ' A Tale of 
the Sea. By J. Fenimore 

Cooper 

307 Two Kisses. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 

784 Two Miss Flemings, The. By au- 
thor of “What’s His Offence?” 
242 Two Orphans, The. By D’En- 

nery 

663 Two Sides of the Shield, The. 
By Charlotte M. Yonge 


311 Two Years Before the Mast. 

By R. H. Dana, Jr., 20 

407 Tylney Hall. By Thdmas Hood 20 

983 Uarda. By George Ebers 20 

862 Ugly Barrington. By “ The 
Duchess.” .'. 10 


137 Uncle Jack. By Walter Besant 10 
541 Uncle Jack. By-Wadter Besant 10 
930 Uncle Max. By R<jgaNouchetl;e 
Carey. 1st and- 2d half, each 20 
152 Uncommercial Traveler, The. 


By Charles Dickens > 20 

174 Under a Ban. .By Mrs. Lodge! 20 
460 Under a Shadow, •- By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 


Cruise of the “ Destroyer.” 

By M. Quad 20 

276 Under the Lilies and Roses. 

By Florence Marryat (Mrs, 

Francis Lean) 10 

110 Under the Red Flag. By Miss 

- M. E. Braddon 10 

4 Under Two Flags. By“Ouida” 20 
340 Under Which King? By Comp- 
ton Reade 20 

718 Unfairly W'^on. By Mis. Power 

O’Donoghue 20 

634 Unforeseen, The. By Alice 

O’Hanlon 20 

508 Unholy Wish, The. By Mrs. 

Henry Wood 10 

735 Until the Day Breaks. By 

Emily Spender 20 

654 “Us.” An Old-fashioned Story. 

By Mrs. Molesworth 10 

837 Vagabond Heroine, A. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards 10 

482 Vagrant Wife, A. By F. Warden 20 
691 Valentine Strange. By David 

Christie Murray 20 

189 Valerie’s Fate. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander 10 

27 Vanity Fair. By William M. 

Thackeray 20 

426 Venus’s Doves. By Ida Ash- 
worth Taylor 20 

891 Vera Nevill; or. Poor Wisdom’s 
Chance. By Mrs. H. Lovett 

Cameron 20 

46 Very Hard Cash. By Charles 

Reade 20 

59 Vice Versa. By F. Anstey 20 

716 Victor and Vanquished. By 

Mar}' Cecil Hay 20 

583 Victory Deane. By Cecil Griffith 20 
545 Vida’s Story. By author of 

“ Guilty Without Crime ” 10 

734 Viva. By Mrs. Forrester 20 

793 Vivian (jrey. By the Rt. Hon. 
Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 

Beaconsfield. First half 90 

793 Vivian Grey. By the Rt. Hon. 
Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of 


20 

10 

10 

20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

10 

10 

20 

10 

10 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

10 

20 

20 

20 

20 

20 

10 

20 

10 

20 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY— Pocket Edition. 


17 


835 Vivian the Beauty. By Mrs. 

Annie Edwards 20 

204 Vixen. By Miss M. E. Braddon 20 
777 Voyages and Travels of Sir 


John Maundeville, Kt., The.. 10 
884 Voyage to the Cape, A. By W. 
Clark Russell 20 

659 Waif , of the “ Cynthia,” The. 

By Jules Verne 20 

9' Wanda, 'Countess von Szalras. 

.By “ Ouida” 20 

270 Wandering: Jew, The. By Eu- 

gene Sue.' .Part 1 20 

270tWandering Jew, The. By Eu- 

gene Sue. Part II 20 

• ■621 Warden, The. By Anthony 

Trollope 10 

266 Water-Babies, The. A Eairy 
Tale for a Land-Baby. By the 

Rev. Charles Kingsley 10 

512 Waters of Hercules, The 20 

112 Waters of Marah, The. By John 

Hill 20 

359 Water-Witch, The. By J, Feni- 

more Cooper 20 

401 Waverley. By Sir Walter Scott 20 
195 “ Way of the World, The.” By 

David Christie Murray 20 

415 Ways of the Hour, The. By J. 

Fenimore Cooper 20 

344 “Wearing of the Green, The.” 

By Basil 20 

943 Weavers and Weft; or; “Love 
That Hath Us in His Net.” 

By Miss M. E. Braddon 20 

961 Wee Wifie. By Rosa N. Carey. 20 
312 Week in Killarney, A. By “ The 

Duchess” 10 

458 Week of Passion, A; or, The 
Dilemma of Mr. George Bar- 
ton the Younger. By Edward 

Jenkins 20 

79 Wedded and Parted. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“Dora Thorne” 10 

628 Wedded Hands. By the author 
of “ My Lady’s Folly ” — .... 20 
400 Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish,. The. 

By .J. Fenimore Cooper 20 

637 What’s His Offence? By author 
of “ The Two Miss Flemings ” 20 
722 What’s Mine’s Mine. By George 

Macdonald 20 

679 Where Two Ways Meet. By 

Sarah Doudney 10 

220 Which Loved Him Best? By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

236 Which Shall It Be? By Mrs. 

Alexander 20 

627 White Heather. By Wm. Black 20 
70 White Wings: A Yachting Ro- 
mance. By William Black . . 10 


335 White Witch, The. A Novel. .. 20 
939 Why Not? Florence Marryat. . 20 
849 Wicked Girl, A. Mary Cecil Hay 20 
^ Widow Lerouge, The. By Emile 
Gaboriau 20 


76 Wife in Name Only; or, A Bro- 
ken Heart. By Charlotte M. 
Braeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne ” 20 

254 Wife’s Secret, The, and Fair but 
False. Charlotte M. Braeme, 
author of “ Doi*a Thorne ”.. . 10 
323 Willful Maid, A. By Charlotte 
M. Uraeme, author of “ Dora 

Thorne” 20 

908 Willful Young Woman, A ^ 

761 Will Weathei’helm. By William 

H. G. Kingston 20 

373 Wing-and-Wing. By J. Feni- 
more Cooper 20 

163 Winifred Power. By Joyce Dar- 
rell 20 

472 Wise Women of Inverness, 

The. By Wm. Black 10 

134 Witching Hour, The, and Other 
Stories. By “The Duchess”. 10 
432 Witch’s Head, The. By H. 

Rider Haggard 20 

872 With Cupid’s Eyes. By Flor- 
ence Marryat 20 

20 Within an Inch of His Life. 

By Emile Gaboi’iau 20 

358 Within the Clasp. By J. Ber- 
wick Harwood 20 

809 Witness My Hand. By the au- 
thor of ‘‘ Lady Gwendolen’s 

Tryst ” 10 

957 Woodlanders, The. By Thomas 

Hardy 20 

98 Woman-Hater, A. By Charles 

Reade 20 

705 Woman I Loved, The, and the 
Woman Who Loved Me. By 

Isa Blagden 10 

701 Woman in White, The. Wilkie 
Collins. Illustrated. 1st half 20 
701 Wonian in White, The. Wilkie 
Collins. Illustrated. 2d half 20 
854 W’^omau’s Error, A. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 

“ Dora Thorne ” 20 

322 Woman’s Love-Story, A. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

459 Woman’s Temptation, A. By 
Charlotte M. Braeme. (Large 
type edition) 20 

951 W’^oman’s Temptation, A. By 

Charlotte M. Braeme, author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 10 

295 Woman’s War, A. By Char- 
lotte M. Braeme, author of 
“Dora Thorne” 10 

952 Woman’s VVar, A. By Charlotte 

M. Braeme. (Large type edi- 
tion) 20 

900 Woman’s Wit, By. By Mrs. Al- 
exander 20 

934 Wooed and Married. By Rosa 
Nouchette Carey. First half. 20 
934 Wooed and Married. By Rosa 
Nouchette Carey. Second half 20 
17 W' Going O’t, The. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander 20 


18 


THE SEASIDE LIBRARY — Pocket Editioji?^. 


881 World Betweeu Thera, The. By 
Charlotte M. Braerae, author 


of “Dora Thorue.” ao 

906 World Went Very Well Then, 

The. By AValter Besant 20 

963 Worth Winning. By Mrs. H. 

Lovett Cameron 20 

865 Written in Fire. By Florence 

Marry at • 20 

380 Wyandotte; or, The Hutted 
Knoll. By J. Fenimore Cooper 20 
434 Wyllard’s Weird. By Miss M. E. 

Braddon 20 


1 Yolande. By Willi^n Black.. 20 

709 Zenobia; or, The Fall of Paf- 
rayra. By William Ware. 

First half. .'. 20 

709 Zenobia; or. The Fall of Pal- 
myra. By William Ware. 

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NacMolgende Werke sind in der „Deiitschen Library “ erschienen; 






1 Der Kaiser von Prof, G, Ebers 20 

2 Die Somosierra von R. Wald- 

mttller 10 

3 Das Geheimniss der alten Mam- 

sell. Roman vou E. Marlitt. 10 

4 Quisisana vou Fr. Spielhagen 10 

5 Gartenlauben - Bliithen von E. 

Werner 20 

6 Die Hand der Nemesis von E, 

A.Kdnig 20 

T Amtmann’s Magd v. E, Marlitt 20 

8 Vineta von E. Werner 20 

9 Auf der Rummingsburg von M. 

Widdern 10 

10 Das Haus Hillel von Max Ring 20 

11 Gliickaufl von E. Werner 10 

12 Goldelse von E, Marlitt 20 

13 Vater und Sohn von F. Lewald 10 

14 Die Wtirger von Paris von C. 

Vacano 20 

15 Der Diamantscbleifer von Ro- 

senthal Bonin 10 

16 In<ra und lugraban von Gustav 

Freytag . . 20 

17 Fine Frage von Georg Ebers.. 10 

18 lin Paradiese von Paul Heyse 20 

19 In beiden Hemispharen von 

Sutro 10 

20 Gelebt undgelitten von H. Wa- 

chenhusen 20 

21 Die Eichhofs von M. von Rei- 

chenbach 10 

2i. Kinder der Welt von P. Heyse. 

Erste Halfte 20 

22 Kinder der Welt von P. Heyse. 

Zweite Halfte.. 20 

23 Barfiissele von Berthold Auer- 

bach 10 

24 Das Nest der Zauukonige von 

G. Freytag 20 

25 Friihlingsboten von E. Werner 10 

26 Zelle No. 7 von Pierre Zacone 20 

27 Die junge Frau v. H. Wachen- 

husen 20 

28 Buchenheim von Th. v. Varn- 

biiler 10 

29 Auf der Balm des Verbrechens 

V. Ewald A. Konig 20 

80 Brigitta von Berth, Auerbach . . 10 

31 Im Schillingshof v. E. Marlitt 20 

32 Gesprengte Fesseln v. E. Wer- 

ner 10 

S3 Der Heiduck von Hans Wa- 

chenhusen 20 

34 Die Sturmhexe von GrSfln M. 
Keyserling 10 

85 Das Kind Bajazzo’s von E. A. 

Konig 20 

86 Die Briider vom deutschen 

Hause von Gustav Freytag, . 20 

87 Der Wilddieb v. F. GerstScker 10 

88 Die Verlobte von Rob. Wdld- 

mUller..» 80 


39 Der Doppelganger von L. 

Schuckiu^ Ifl 

40 Die weigse Frau von Greifen- 

stein von E. Fels 2(1 

41 Hans und Grete von Fr. Spiel- 

hagen 10 

42 Mein Onkel Don J uan von H* 

Hopfen 20 

43 Markus Konig v. Gustav Frey- 

tag 30 

44 Die schonen Amerikanerinnen 

von Fr. Spielhageh 10 

45 Das grosse Loos v. A. K6nig..- 20 

46 Zur Ehre Gottes von Sacher 

und Ultimo v. F. Spielhagen 10 

47 Die Geschwister von Gustav 

Freytag 20 

48 Bischof und Konig von Mariam 

Tenger und Der Piratenko- 
nig von M. Jokai 10 

49 Reichsgrilfin Gisela v. Marlitt 20 

50 Bewegte Zeiten v.Leon Alexan- 

drowitsch 10 

51 Um Ehre und Leben von E. A. 

Konig 20 

52 Aus einer kleinen Stadt v. Gu- 

stav Frey tag 20 

53 Hildegard von Ernst v.Waldow 10 

54 Dame Orange von Hans Wa- 

chenhusen 20 

55 Johannisnacht von M. Schmidt 10 

56 Angela von Fr. Spielhagen... 20 

57 Falsche Wege von J. v. Brun- 

Barnow 10 

58 Versunkene Welten von Wilh. 

Jensen 30 

59 Die Wohnungssucher von A. 

von Wintei-feld 10 

60 Eine Million von E. A. Konig 20 

61 Das Skelet von F. Spielhag^en 

und Das Frolenhaus von Gu- 
stav zu Putlitz 10 

62 Soli und Haben v. G. Freytag. 

Erste Halfte 20 

62 Soil und Haben v. G. Freytag. 

Zweite Halfte 20 

63 Schfbss Griinwald von Char- 

lotte Fielt 10 

64 Zwei Kreuzherren von Lucian 

Herbert 20 

65 Die Erlebnisse einer Schutzlo- 

sen V. Kath. Sutro-Schttcking 10 

66 Das Haideprinzesschen von E. 

Marlitt 20 

67 Die Gei'^er-Wally voh Wilh. von 

Hillern 10 

68 Idealisten von A. Reinow 20 

69 Am Altar von K. Werner 10 

70 Der Konig der Luft von A. v. 

Winterfeld 29 

71 Moschko von Parma v. Karl E. 

Franzps M 


DIE DEUTSCHE LIBRARY. 


72 Schuld und Stihne von Ewald 

A»Kdnis. 

78 In Reih’ und Glied v. F. Spiel- 
hageu. Erste HSlfte 

73 In Reih’ und Glied v. F. Spiel- 

hagen. Zweite HSlfte 

74 Geheimnisse eider kleinen 

Stadt von A. von Winterfeld 

75 Das Landhaus am Rhein von 

B. Auerbach. Erste Halfte.. 
•75* Das Landhaus am Rhein von 
B. Auerbach. Zweite Halfte 

76 Clara Vere von Friedrich Spiel- 

hagen 

77 Die Frau Biirgermeisterin von 

G. Ebers 

• 78 Aus eigener Kraft von Wilh. 

v.-Hillern 

• 79 Ein Kampf urn’s Recht von K. 

Franzos 

80 Prinzessin Schnee von Marie 

Widdern 

81 Die zweite Frau von E. Marlitt 

82 Benvenuto von Fanny Lewald 
Pessimisten von F. von Stengel 

84 Die Hofdame der Erzherzogin 

von F. von Witzleben-Wen- 
delstein 

85 Ein Vierteljahrhundert von B. 

Young 

86 Thllringer Erzahlungen von E. 

Marlitt 

87 Der Erbe von Mortella von A. 

Dom 

88 Vom armen egyptischen Mann 

V. Hans Wachenhusen 

89 Der goldene Schatz aus dem 

dreissigjUhi-igen Krieg v. E. 
A. Konig 

90 Das 'Fraulein von St. Ama- 

ranthe von R. von Gottschall 

91 Der Fiirst von Montenegro v. 

A. Winterfeld 

92 Um ein Herz von E. Falk 

93 Uarda von Georg Ebers 

94 In der zwolften Stunde von 

Fried. Spielhagen und Ebbe 
und Fluth von M. Widdern... 

95 Die von Hohenstein von Fr. 

Spielhagen. Erste Halfte . . . 

95 Die von Hohenstein von Fr. 

Spielhagen, Zweite Halfte.. 

96 Deutsch und Siavisch V. Lucian 

Herbert 

97 Im Hause des Conimerzien- 

Raths von Marlitt 

98 Helene von H. Wachenhusen 

und Die Prinzessin von Por- 
tugal V. A. Meissner 

99 Aspasia von Robert Hammer- 

ling 

100 Ekkehard v. Victor v. Scheffel 

101 EinKampfumRom V. F.Dahn. 

Erste Halfte 

101 Ein Kampf um Rom v.F.Dahn. 

Zweite HSlfte 

102 Spinoza von Berth. Auerbach. 

103 von der Erde zum Mond von 

J. Verne 


Der Todesgruss der Legionoo 

von G. Samarow IW 

Reise um den Mond von Julius 

Verne 10 

Fiirst und Musiker von Max 

Ring 20 

Nena Sahib v. J. Retclifife. Er- 

ster Band 20 

Nena Sahib von J. Retcliffe. 

Zweiter Band 20 

Nena Sahib von J. Retcliffe. 

Dritter Band 20 

Reise nach dem Mittelpunkte 
der Erde von Julius Verne 10 
Die silberne Hochzeit von S. 

Kohn 10 

Das Spukehaus von A. v. W’in- 

terfeld 20 

Die Erben des Wahnsinus von 

T. Marx 10 

Der Ulan von Job. van Dewall 10 
Um hohen Preis v. E. Werner 20 
Sell warz w ii Ider Doi fgesch ich- 
ten von B. Auerbach. Erste 


Halfte 20 

Schwarzwalder Dorfgeschich- 
ten v. B. Auerbach. Zweite 

Halfte 20 

Reise um die Erde von Julius 

Verne 10 

Casars Ende von S. J. R. 

(Schluss von 104) 20 

Auf Capri von Carl Detlef 10 

Severa von E. Hartner 20 

Ein Arzt der Seele von Wilh. 

v. Hillern 20 

Die Livergnas von Hermann 

Willfried 10 

Zwanzigtauseud Meilen un- 
term Meer von J. Verne 20 

Mutter und Sohn von August 

Godin 10 

Das Haus des Fabrikanteu v. 

Samarow 20 

Bruderpflicht und Liebe von 
Schiicking 10 


Die Romerfahrt der Epieronen 
V. G. Samarow. Erste Halfte 20 

Die Romerfahrt der Epigonen 
V. G. Samarow'. ZweiteHalfte 20 
Porkeles und Porkelessa von 


J Scherr 10 

Ein Friedensstorer von Victor 
Bliithgen und Der heimliche 

Gast von R. Byr 20 

Schone Frauen v. R. Edmund 

Hahn 10 

Bakchen und Thyrsostr&ger 

von A. Niemann 20 

Getrennt. Roman von E.Polko 10 

Alte Ketten. Roman von L. 

Schiicking 20 

Ueber die Wolken v. Wilhelm 

Jensen 10 

Das Gold des Orion von H. 

Rosenthal-Bonin 10 

Um den Halbmond von Sama- 
row. Erste H&lfte..... 20 


104 

20 

105 : 

20 

106 

20 

107 

10 

107 

20 

107 

20 

108 

10 

109 

20 

110 

20 

111 

20 

112 

10 113. 

20 114 

10 

20 

114 

10 

115 

20 

116 

10 

117 

20 118 

10 

120 

20 121 

10 122 

fO 128 

20 124 

125 

10 ^ 

20 125 

20 126 

10 127 

^ 128 

10 129 

20 160 

20 131 

20 132 

20 133 

20 

134 

10 

ca 


DIE VBtTTSCnE LIBRARY. 


134 Um den Halbmond von Sanaa- 

row. Zweite Halfte 20 

136 Troubadour • Novellen von P 

Heyse 10 

136 Der Schweden-Schatz von H. 

Wachenhusen 20 

137 Die Bettlerin vom Pont des 

Arts und Das Bild des Kaisers 
von Wilh, Hauff 10 

138 Modelle. Hist. Roman von A. v. 

Winterfeld 20 

189 Der Krieg um die Haube von 

Stefanie Keyser 10 

140 Numa Roumestan v. Alphonse 

Daudet 20 


141 Spatsommer. Novelle von 0. 

von Sydow und Engelid, No- 
velle V. Balduin ]\1611hausen 10 

142 Bartolomaus von Brusehaver 

u. Musma Cussalin. Novellen 
von L. Ziemssien 10 

143 Ein gemeuchelter Dichter. Ko- 

mischer Roman von A. von 
Winterfeld. Erste Halfte 20 

143 Ein gemeuchelter Dichter. Ko- 

mischer Roman von A. von 
Winterfeld. Zweite Halfte.. 20 

144 Ein Wort. Neuer Roman von 


G. Ebers 20 

545 Novellen von Paul Heyse 10 

146 Adaih Homo in Versen v. Pa- 

ludan-Miiller 20 

147 Ihr einziger Bruder von W. 

Heimburg, 10 

148 Ophelia. Roman von Hi von 

Lankenau 20 

149 Nemesis v. Helene v. Hiilsen 10 

150 Felicitas. Histor. Roman von 

F. Dahn 10 

151 Die Claudier. Roman v. Ernst 

Eckstein 20 

152 Eine Verlorene von Leopold 

Kompert 10 

153 Luginsland. Roman von Otto 

Roquette 20 

154 Im Banne der Musen von W. 

Heimburg 10 

155 Die Schwester v. L. SchUcking 10 

156 Die Colonie von Friedrich Ger- 

stacker 20 

157 Deutsche Liebe. Roman v. M. 

MUller 10 

158 Die Rose von Delhi von Fels, 

Erste Halfte 20 

158 Die Rose von Delhi von Fels. 

Zweite Hfi,lfte 20 

159 Debora. Roman von W. Miiller 10 


160 IJine Mutter v. Friedrich 6er- 

stHcker ^ 20 

161 Friedhofsblume von W; von 

Hillern 10 

162 Nach der ersten Liebe von K. 

Frenzel 20 

163 Gebannt u. erlost v E. Werner 20 

164 Uhlenhans. Roman von 1 ried. 

Spielhagen 20 

165 Klytia. Histor. Roman von G. 

Taylor 20 

166 Mayo. ErzShlung v. P. Lindau 10 

167 Die Herrin von Ibichstein von 

F. Henkel 20 

168 Die Saxoborussen von Sama- 

row. Erste Halfte 20 

168 Die Saxoborussen vop Sama- 

row. Zweite Halfte...,. 2C 

169 Serapis. Histor. Roman v. G. 


170 Ein Gottesurtheil. Roman voR 

E. Werner 10 

171 Die Kreuzfahrer. Roman von 

Felix Dahn 20 

172 Der Erbe von Weidenhof von 

F. Pelzeln 20 

173 Die Reise nach dem Schicksal 

V. Franzos 10 

174 Villa Schonow. Roman v. W. 

Raabe 10 

175 Das Vermachtniss v. Eckstein. 

Erste Halfte 20 

175 Das Vermachtniss v. Eckstein. 

Zweite Halfte 20 

176 Herr und Frau Bewer von P. 

Lindau 10 

177 Die Nihilisten von Joh. Scherr 10 

178 Die Frau mit den Karfunkel- 

steinen von E. Marlitt 20 

179 Jetta. -Von George Taylor. ... 20 

180 Die Stieftochter. Von J. Smith 20 

181 An der Heilquelle. Von Fried. 

Spielhagen 20 

182 Was der Todtenkopf erzahlt, 

von Jokai 20 

183 Der Zigeunerbaron, von Jokai 10 

184 Himmlische u. irdische Liebe, 

von Paul Heyse 20 

185 Ehre, Roman v. O. Schubin.. . ^ 

186 Violanta, Roman V. E. Eckstein ^ 

187 Nemj, Erziihlung von H. Wa- 

chenhusen 10 

188 Strandgut, von Joh. v. Dewall. 

Erste Halfte 20 

188 Strandgut, von Joh. v. Dewall. 

Zweite Halfte 20 

189 Homo sum, Roman von Georg 

Ebers 20 


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BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER: 

A FEW BAYS AMONG 

OUR SOUTHERN BRETHREN. 

BY HENRY M. FIELD, D.D., 

Author of “ From the Lakes of Killamey to the Golden Horn,'' “ From Egypt 
to Japan," “ On the Desert," “ Among the Holy Hills," and 
“ The Greek Islands, and Turkey after the War." 


Of Doctor Field’s new book the New York Observer says: “ Doctor Field has 
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present plenty and contentment of peace and prosperity, delight the reader 
and lead to the regret that the volume is not twice as long as it is. . . . It is 
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80 Her Dearest Foe 30 

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46 The Heritage of Langdale 20 

870 Ralph Wilton’s Weird 10 

400 Which Shall it Be?. 20 

532 Maid, Wife, or Widow 10 

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1259 Valerie’s Fate 10 

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1502 Tlie Australian Aunt 10 

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WILLIAM BLACK’S WORKa 

18 A Princess of Thule 30 

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61 Kilmenv ....•.'.10 



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